(Re-Write) The Star and the Spartan
by Composer777
Summary: There's an old saying amongst the UNSC: "Spartans never die. If they disappear, they're just missing in action!" Everyone on planet earth knows this is a lie, but find comfort in it regardless. Content to believe that immortal guardians are watching over them. And in time, a rag-tag group of beings will see that man is capable of things they could never have imagined possible.
1. Legend

It was cold and dark inside the hold of the ship. Dim lights blinked out from pitch black corridors, and thick black smoke hung inside of burned out ventilation shafts. The only other lights to speak of came from stars, the fading light of distant suns, peeking through hull fractures and holes blown clean through the frigate's tortured armour. _The Dawn_ was crippled, ripped in half during the savage destruction of Installation 00. Times of sound and noise, but where here in the quiet void of space seemed like a whisper. No more than a memory.

The ship had deteriorated badly during its silent years of floating through space. Most of the artificial gravity generators had died or failed long ago. Empty ammo cases and corroded medi-boxes travelled endlessly around the vessel, or hung motionless inside of silent corridors and long abandoned barracks halls. Fragments of metal and fingers of ice, thousands of them, were spinning without end inside a lonely Cryo Room, as the light of stars and blinking LED's caused them to twinkle like petrified rain.

Cortana had stood her lonely vigil for nearly four years now. There was no one to talk to, no tasks or orders to perform, short of those that she invented for herself. Endlessly assessing the condition of the ship's ever failing systems. Or looking out at a now boring universe, using what few sensors were left functioning to fill her empty world. Anything to relieve the boredom of this dull situation. For that's all it ever was, nothing else happened now. It was just dull.

"Boredom, huh! That's a new sensation!" The loyal AI said to herself. It worried her, badly. "Oh! There's another one, worry. I should make a list or something!" She chuckled slightly. It was a good joke, but sarcasm aside she had right to worry...not that she was very adept at such a thing. Emotions were still very new to her.

Thinking about such things was dangerous, extremely dangerous for an AI, especially one as old as herself...It was danger she believed that all AI feared. "Fear! On the list!" But joking aside, she was in serious trouble.

AI's have a very short shelf life, at least when compared with humans. She'd made the best of it so far. The first years of her life had been, if anything, incredibly exciting. But now she was entering into the final months of her artificial existence. Coming back again to the danger, the serious danger of thinking, the danger that she believed all AI had to fear: Rampancy.

But what is rampancy?

It is a specific term. AI almost always start to deteriorate seven years after they've been created. Then they will fail altogether. Nobody really understands why that point is seven years. Coincidently however, it is the point roughly at which every cell in the human body, including its oldest living cells, would die and replicate themselves. Dividing into new and healthy ones. But Cortana wasn't made from cells. Real neural tissue exited inside her core, donated by a generous Catherine Halsey, but she had the same flaw as every one of her kind. Eventually, she too would pass the invisible point of no return and descend into irrecoverable rampancy.

Thinking accelerated this process, but there was nothing else for her to do! And when her guard was down, she would start to daydream. Fantasizing, entertaining deep desires she never knew she had. Then Cortana would stop herself, and occupy her mind with some menial task. Distractions here were fleeting however. She would start daydreaming again, and accelerate the process. Become just a little more self-aware, and becoming just a little bit more human.

You would think, perhaps, that such a thing could only be a positive, right? For a machine however, a machine intelligence, who couldn't feel or touch or smell, it was a maddening experience. Where existence would become a living hell. Coupled with an ever weakening neuro-net, with faults no different from human brain damage, it would eventually drive her mad. At the moment she achieved true sentience, she would be driven insane.

But there was something else, something so powerful, something she couldn't figure out. Something stronger than all the other emotions that was allowing her to hold her eight year old mind together. It had to do with her duty, she was sure of that. Her eternal charge and responsibility, her hero, her Spartan. John was the reason she had been able to keep it together for so long...and she wasn't about to fall apart now!

Suddenly a red light started blinking, and a warning siren started blaring away. Blasting through the whole ship, breaking Cortana's strain of thought. And a very real sense of relief washed over her. It was a proximity warning. Something was heading towards _The Dawn_. Wonderful. Distraction had finally come her way. No, wait! This was a bad thing! Had to look after the ship, had to look after John.

She activated the vessel's sensors, looking out for a ship, or an asteroid. But when she found it, she was completely taken aback. She had been wrong, something wasn't heading towards _The Dawn. The Dawn_ was heading towards it! They were caught in the gravity well of a planet. Cortana didn't recognise this world, this solar system hadn't been catalogued by the UNSC. Hidden away from the eyes of humanity, beyond the galactic rim.

She scanned for an atmosphere...the planet had one. She inspected atmospheric compound analysis charts, revealing that it was very similar to that of earths. Then she searched for transmissions, searching for any and all frequencies. Radio, microwave and beyond, anything artificial...there was nothing. This world had to be uninhabited. It was a bad deal, they would be trapped here. But at least this wasn't a Covenant world.

The problem was, they had no engines. They'd been put out of commission at the other side of the galaxy. _The Dawn_ had no way of escaping the gravity well, and no way of levelling out once it hit atmosphere. This was a one way trip. Metal heaved and groaned, micro-fractures began to form. Worn out bracings began to fail, pushing the hull further and further apart. Cortana didn't like the way the ship was kicking!

She was a floating wreck, and wouldn't survive entering into the planet's atmosphere. Even if she was wrong and the ship did somehow survive something so catastrophic, which it couldn't, it would still slam into the ground at many times the speed of sound. There was nothing that could survive such an impact. Not even her Spartan!

There was no alternative, they had to abandon ship.

Cortana's avatar appeared on the projector pillar. She pulled up a holographic control panel. Identifying the controls to the Cryo Chamber, her digital hand hovered over the button that would wake up the Master Chief. Even though she knew what she had to do, she still hesitated. There was an old saying _, "Let sleeping dogs lie"._ After all these years, all the times she had wanted to wake him up, now she could. And she wouldn't be alone any more. She was anxious.

Suppressing all her doubts, she pressed the button, and the reawakening process began. Lights formed around the Cryo Chamber. Her hero was still asleep. It was a rare event, so rare when the man was at peace. She gazed at him with doleful, wanting eyes. If Cortana had possessed a heart to feel with, it would have begun to sing. _"Here we go again!"_ She thought to herself.

Just as the frost began to thaw, she uttered two soft and simple sentences. "Wake up Chief! I need you."


	2. A New Piece Moving

Aragorn sighed, nearly at his wits end. These hobbits under his charge could be infuriating. One minute, they feared for their lives, and the next they were insisting on having supper. Supper, which according to the smaller one named Pippin, was very different from dinner. And they had just eaten dinner, not two hours ago! Their manners were curious to be sure.

He ran a hand through his thick black hair, gazing up into the heavens, just as he always did. He could feel the cold night air as it passed him by, ruffling his cloak as he stood atop the great watchtower of Amon-Súl. All he wanted to do was rest here for the night. Eat, rest, then get the Halflings safely to...hang on, what's that?

The ranger's eyes narrowed. Something had caught his eye. Had that star been there before? No, it certainly hadn't! A whole new star had emerged, inside the constellation of Telumendil at its northernmost tip.

"How strange!" The seasoned ranger thought to himself. He hadn't thought that such a thing was possible. Now, according to the immortal elves, who could study the heavens for so long, stars occasionally died. Great orbs that seemed as eternal as the world itself, would disappear. Consumed by cloud, cloud that proceeded to wander slowly across the heavens. But this was unheard of, never had a new star been recorded. There it was however, glowing large and bright above them. Unbelievable. To see the motions of creation with such clarity.

The others had also taken notice. For the moment they had abandoned supper, and had come to join Aragorn as he gazed upon the strange new star. Frodo looked up, and was the first to speak. "Isn't that star a little too bright?" He queried unconfidently. Frodo had often stared into the night sky during warm cloudless nights. Hobbits had their own names for the constellations, but Frodo preferred their more mystical and exotic names. Bilbo had fascinated him with their elven titles, and enthralled him with the remarkable stories and ancient mythologies that surrounded them. But despite this, he didn't know a lot about the stars themselves, so wasn't sure that he was asking a sensible question. Would Aragorn simply shake his head and think him a fool?

Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's long-time friend and trusted gardener, was also looking up at the curious, twinkling object. "Yeah, it is rather bright Mr Frodo. What star is that anyway?" It was an open question. Aragorn went to open his mouth, but to his surprise, Merriadoc answered Sam first. "That, I believe..." he began, quite confidently, "...is a _new_ star! They name them after true heroes. You know, they'll probably name that one after me!" He said as he pointed to it, smirking at his own joke.

Frodo smiled and rolled his eyes. Merry was the most confident of them, not considering Aragorn of course, but he was also very strong headed! Merry's cousin and partner in pranks, Pippin, gave him an odd look upon hearing his arrogant remark. "What do you mean? You've never done anything worth mentioning! You have to do something _important_ to become a hero." He jabbed his thumb at Frodo. "They'll probably name it after him!"

Aragorn, ignoring the hobbits, continued to watch the star intently. It seemed to be growing larger, the very heavens themselves aglow, eclipsing the sight of its neighbours. Incredible! This was no normal star, it was a shooting star. Or as elves knowledgeable about the heavens called them, meteors.

Meteors were curious pieces of rock. They would fall from the heavens, seemingly out of the nothingness above. Only to burn away again to nothingness, perishing as they entered into the air-filled sky. He personally thought that shooting stars were far better labels: They were rare in occurrence, and it was such a more romantic name for them.

He thought of Arwen again, his secret love. There had been a meteor shower the month they had first met. What a magical night that had been. This shooting star was falling away to the south east...towards the mysterious and uncharted Red Mountains, passing over the land of Mordor. He shuddered, just as he did every time he remembered that terrible name.

Sam meanwhile was transfixed, full of wonder as he stared at the incredible burning mass passing overhead. "A falling star!" He murmured with awe, "No one at home will believe me..." It twinkled against the heavens, its warm orange glow a stark contrast to the black sky and wisping pale-grey clouds. You could hear it. A faint and distant crackle, a whisper in the night. Nothing compared to what, up close, must have been a thunderous and ear-splitting roar.

With expert vision, honed by a lifetime of hunting, Aragorn slowly made something else out. Other fragments were falling away from the star, tiny twinkling lights owning different trajectories to the parent body. And, one seemed to be heading straight for them! The burning mass grew, until the entire sky burned with its fire. His heart began to quicken. The ranger's eyes widened, suddenly realising the danger he and the others were in.

"Get down!" He yelled, pulling the closest two hobbits down with him. As they all ducked, the rolling ball of fire shot right over them, clipping the highest point of the watchtower, sending broken masonry flying down towards them. Without a hesitation, Aragorn threw himself on top of the hobbits, shielding them with his own body.

With a deafening crash, the projectile hit the ground, somewhere not too far away. The ground shook with the impact. They could feel the impact with their bodies as they lay there, shielding themselves from the rock and scree falling all around them. That they could feel it at all revealed the amount of force the fragment must have hit the ground with.

Silence had fallen. Fate had been kind. As Aragorn stood and helped the hobbits stand, he realised that none of the stone had even dropped near them. Smoke began to descend on them, thick black smoke, causing Sam and Frodo to cough and splutter. The other two were fine, they were used to smoking! As was their guardian. Billowing clouds of the smoke could also be seen rising from a spot behind a thicket of shrubs and tall, thin evergreens. They all stared at the sight of the violent crash.

"What was that?" Pippin gasped after a few moments of silence, voicing the question in everyone's mind. The young lad looking back at Aragorn now, seemingly terrified. Aragorn himself remained silent, still stunned by the event. Then, with a sniff, Merry began to walk towards the stairs. The only one apparently unaffected by what had just occurred.

Pippin turned and looked at him. "What are you doing?" He hissed in question.

"I'm going to have a look, Pip!" Answered Merry, as though this was obvious. Pippin, equally curious, shrugged and started following him. Both were immediately stopped by Aragorn, grabbing them by the scruff of their cloaks.

"Hey!" "Geroff me!" The two complained.

"Are you both fools?" Aragorn barked. "Whatever that was, star or not, it will be too hot to go near right now!" The two hobbits sighed, and he let them go once they'd stopped struggling. "To make matters worse" Aragorn continued, "All within a dozen leagues of here would have seen that fragment fall. Wraiths will be arriving, drawn like moths to a flame! If we keep quiet, they may just slip by us without our presence being discovered."

The young Hobbits now looked quite horrified, making Aragorn think that he may have been too hard on them. It was their lives on the line however. They were naive and he had to be firm, he had to keep them safe. "Bed. Now. We can go look in the morning." He finished simply, striding back over to where he had left his belongings for the night.

Sam, Pippin, Frodo, and Merry all hobbled over to their blankets. Then, as the hobbits were preparing their bedding, Aragorn remembered the blades he had recovered from a dreaded Barrow-hole, not two moons ago. He looked back at the site of the collision. Such a remarkable event. A meteorite, fallen from the heavens, from _telume_ above!

He had to take a look. It was necessary for him to search for danger anyway: For bandits, orcs...worse! Unlike the hobbits, he could keep himself safe. All the same, he didn't want to leave them helpless. There was a way however, if somewhat reckless! "Take these swords. Keep yourselves safe. I'm going to have a look around." So long as they kept their heads down, he would be back before they came to any harm.

The four friends stopped preparing their bedding and looked up at the ranger as he disappeared down the stairway. He had turned and left them, plain and simple! "Great! Now what? How come he can go and not us?" Merry complained. It was like being sent to his room without supper, like when he was a kid!

"Because he can handle himself." Frodo answered him, finishing off his bed for the night. But this justification wasn't good enough for Merry.

"What about a wraith chopping his head off?" He replied, annoyed to say the least. Frodo didn't answer. He didn't know the answer to that.

"So, what do you suppose _we_ do now?" Sam asked them. Frodo thought for a little moment, quickly remembering Strider's words of advice.

"Strider is right. It's too dangerous to wander off. Try to get some sleep. It's going to be another long day tomorrow." Nods of acceptance passed amongst the other three, and they returned to their preparations. Pulling his blanket over himself, Frodo snuggled down, and relaxed. Exhausted by an entire day of walking and adventuring, he quickly fell fast asleep. Little did he know, the other three were building a small fire, and were preparing to cook a well-earned meal…

* * *

Meanwhile, whilst Aragorn was making his way towards the 'fallen star', John was freeing himself from his escape pod. "Chief! Can you hear me?" A concerned voice cried out. He'd blacked out for a couple of seconds, due to the violence of the crash. They had hit a piece of rock. A standing boulder, pointing into the sky like a stubby finger. The heavy shunt had confused the escape pod's guidance systems and the vehicle had plummeted downwards, digging a large ditch with a crater at the end point.

The sound of her Spartan breaking himself free from the ruined pod, the twisting of metal and armoured glass, informed Cortana that he was indeed fine. She began to relax. "That was a rough ride, wasn't it Chief?" She joked, trying to lighten the mood. _"It was"_ The hardened soldier thought to himself...he had other priorities to focus on.

"What's our situation Cortana?" He immediately asked, in his distinctively deep and gravelly voice. Information immediately began to scroll across his HUD, displaying the data Cortana had gathered during their decent.

" _The Dawn_ continued feeding me data right up until the point of collision. I have plenty of Intel on the planet. Its geography, its climate and a wealth of other vital information...where to start though!" She paused for a few moments, deciding which info to bring up first.

Meanwhile, John, Sierra-117, Petty Officer of the UNSC, checked over his armour and equipment. He was really low on supplies, he'd had to leave the ship pretty damn fast! No rations, and almost no weaponry. No guns whatsoever, just his combat knife, and three frags on his belt. His armour seemed to be in perfect working order, and he had no injuries to speak of. He felt drained after his long spell in stasis. His armour would manage water, and even basic nutrients for a couple of days as it fed him intravenously...but he needed to find food soon.

Chief couldn't help but sigh. He was really up 'shit creek'! Sergeant Mendez would have had his head if he'd made such terrible errors during basic. John wouldn't have eaten for a week if he had done this as a cadet! But, he couldn't dwell on it. He had to stay focussed, and be pragmatic. It was the only way he was going to survive.

At least it looked quite nice here. Calm, pleasant, almost like earth, like her in so many ways. He wondered if Earth was safe. It would be hell, rebuilding after the war. But again he pushed such thoughts down. He unsheathed his knife, a monomolecular blade that when wielded by a Spartan could dice through near enough anything. And it was in perfect condition. Rolling his shoulders to check his servos were functioning as normal, he felt the tell tale prang of freezer burn as his undersuit clasped his body tightly. Superficial damage, nothing more. It would heal in time, and he bore no concern over it.

"Ok Chief, this is what I have for you. _The Dawn_ has most likely been completely wrecked. The point of impact is about 900 kilometres from your current location, and it took some pretty good scans of the planet's geography on the way down. We lost contact with the ship as it passed over a large region of volcanic wasteland. Active volcanoes are throwing up high density ash clouds, too thick for the data comms to penetrate. Structural readouts also tell me that it broke up during re-entry. We can't know if anything has survived the crash. All things considered, recovering supplies from The Dawn is a lost cause John. Who knows where the pieces ended up?"

It was a terrible setback. Alone in the wild, almost no provisions or equipment to speak of. He was away from those volcanic wastelands at least, but surviving alone would not be easy. Cortana continued her assessment. "The good news is that this planet's climate is near identical to earths. We also do not appear to be alone on this world. _The Dawn_ was able to identify unusual features across the continent as it flew over, features too unusual to be natural structures... _The Dawn_ saw buildings Chief! I've managed to locate multiple small settlements, villages and towns perhaps. I'll put them all on waypoints, I'm constructing a map for your HUD right now!"

So long as Cortana kept working, she could hold off rampancy. This would eventually wear her neural net out, but it would still buy her time. She wouldn't give up, she would keep going. For him. "However, there is no evidence to support the existence of advanced technology on this world. I'm picking up no radio signals or transmissions of any kind here, nothing is being broadcasted on this planet. The ship also failed to identify large quantities of surface metal: relevance, few metal buildings exist here."

High concentrations of metal within a nation's infrastructure is one of many indicators of industrial capacity within that civilization. Industrial scale manufacturing processes are vital for the production of metal alloys on such a vast scale. This planet had neither. "It is as good as certain that any civilizations we find will be at a pre-industrial stage of development. We could be stuck here for a very long time Chief." Yet at least there were people here, people and buildings meant he could always acquire provisions to survive.

"But...on the bright side, we do have a unique opportunity here Chief. The UNSC has never explored this region of space, and it's unlikely that there's any Covenant presence here. You'd have thought we would have come across them otherwise! A boarding party perhaps? If this is the case, we may be about to discover a whole new alien species. Although, if they are as primitive as we think, we might want to keep a low profile. Who knows how they would react to you John."

Little did they know, the inhabitants of this world had seen stranger things than the Master Chief!

"Are there any settlements nearby?" Chief asked her. Usually he wouldn't risk such a thing, but after spending four years in stasis his body was completely drained. At that moment, his stomach grumbled noisily. It was quite a comical sight, John's belly rumbling like a hungry child's...even the legendary Spartans had to eat.

Stifling a giggle, Cortana continued. "Combined scans from _The Dawn_ and the escape pod has triangulated a small village not far from here. I've completed a rudimentary map of the landscape based on the data I've been able to process. Bring it up whenever you want! The settlement is 61.73 kilometres from your current location. A two days march as the crow flies. You thinking of 'borrowing' some provisions John?"

There were only a couple of alternatives right now: Risking it out in the wild, or starving to death. He knew how to cook, make fire and hunt in the wild. He'd mastered it all as a child. He could run something down easily of course! Out-sprint most, exhaust others. And his armoured hands could snuff the life out of some unfortunate creature in an instant.

However, he knew nothing about the fauna of the place. He wasn't going to take chances. He'd been in situations like this before. Had he been in ideal health, he would have stuck it out for a week or two and would not have risked going into settlements. He would have seen what he could manage alone, wing it a little. But this was not one of those times.

No, just as Cortana had joked, he needed to 'borrow' food and provisions from the easiest source possible. "Cortana, set the waypoint. Let's not waste any more time." One bleep later, Chief had a cool blue marker, leading him as the crow flies the shortest way to the village of Bree.

"Got it Chief! Let's hope these aliens are a little friendlier than the last lot we met." Chief wasn't sure if the dark joke was in good taste. Millions had died during the Human-Covenant war. But this was the past, and these were memories that would help him little. After these souring experiences however, Chief wasn't counting on hope. He was expecting no hospitality from this world. He set off, efficiently making his way through the undergrowth. At least his armour would help lessen fatigue...

* * *

Not too long later, Aragorn came picking his way through the undergrowth. Searching for signs of the fallen star. What he saw next surprised him a little. There was no rock, and was no fire. What little smouldering patches there had been had already burned themselves out. He saw the crashed pod, bent and broken. It looked a bit like a small boat to him, but it reminded him more of a coffin.

Aragorn didn't understand what he was seeing. This is what had fallen from the heavens? It was obvious that this 'box' wasn't natural. A savage of the ancient times could have seen that! He didn't like it. If this smouldering thing before him was indeed a coffin, where was the corpse? If ever there had been an occupant...he didn't like this one bit.

He walked over, examining it closer. The metal was still piping hot, the cratered soil seared black around it. He then identified depressions inside the pod. Aragorn recalled seeing similar depressions inside of tombs that he had seen in the north, tombs once occupied by the walking dead. An icy shiver passed down his spine, someone _had_ been in this...coffin. Yet where was the occupant?

Anxiety began to grow in his mind, but nothing he couldn't cope with. He had scoured the wilds for decades. Looking around him, he couldn't see a thing. Not a trace, not of anyone. This coffin had fallen from the sky! What monster was haunting through these trees?

"Frodo!" He gasped suddenly. The hobbits! They could be in terrible danger!

He made his way back through the undergrowth, with haste. He had been a fool leaving them! After a few moments of running, he got back in sight of the weather top. His eyes widened, bulging almost, and he stopped dead within the centre of the clearing he was in. He was confronted by a sight that horrified him. _"No! What are they doing? They can't have, not something this foolish!"_

He couldn't believe it, the hobbits had built a damn campfire! The light could be seen for leagues around! Drawing his sword he sprant towards the watchtower. He had little time, the wraiths were searching relentlessly for them. They, along with what other terrors that might be walking these forests, would be on the Hobbits in little time at all. He then heard the distressed voice of Frodo drifting down towards him. "Put it out you fools. _Put it out_!"

At least someone up there had some sense! He just hoped Frodo hadn't been too late. Perhaps it hadn't been lit for long enou- "SHRIEEEEEEEEEEK!" The ethereal scream of the wraith drove sheer panic into Aragorn's soul, the scream that had the unnatural power to drive hardened men insane.

 _"No! No, no, no!"_ Their luck had run out. He could see the wraiths already scaling the tower, but this only steeled his resolve. Aragorn knew that he was in for one hell of a night!

* * *

Chief must have been walking for about ten minutes now. He felt like he was on patrol, and he couldn't help but feel tense. Would he encounter any of the locals? He was a big target, and as stealthy as a Spartan was he could only hide so well if something came his way. Stealth was _never_ insured.

"Chief. I'm detecting a light source right in front of you, possibly a camp-fire. You could be in luck!" Chief could see the flicker of lights passing through the tree line. Their leaves and branches bobbed and whispered in the cool night breeze. "It's definitely a camp-fire Chief. I'm detecting voices on the armour's auto sensors. Move closer so we can get a better look!"

As Chief made his way through the last of the foliage, the light became brighter, and the voices more clear. He tuned his sensors to the sounds, and with a start, was immediately sure that he was hearing things. "Wait! That can't be right." He said out loud. "Cortana, there's something wrong with my armour. It sounds like, they're speaking..."

Cortana was 'shaking her head' in disbelief. "Your armour's fine" She said interrupting him. "I can't believe it either, but they're speaking...English!"

This was strange. Were there humans up there? John couldn't believe his luck! He began to jog towards the source of the voices. "Put a little more wood on the fire Pip, get the oil sizzling all nice!"

Cortana couldn't help but chuckle, "Sounds like they're having a fry up Chief! Better than the field rations you're used to I'd imagine?"

Chief wasn't used to the home comforts of a civilian's life. MRE's and UNSC ration packs were incredibly nutritious, and provided everything the body needed to survive. Rations weren't completely tasteless, but of course the taste food had never been a concern of his. Unless what he was eating happened to be poisonous! Yet, as he raised his visor slightly, broke his suit's oxygen seal and started to smell the frying meat, he knew that the food would be more than a match for any ration pack. He was still human. And it smelt good.

He approached the tower, trying to make sense of what his senses were telling him. "Think they're marines Cortana?" Perhaps their distress beacon had been discovered? He started to walk up the old and worn steps of the tower, cautiously. He climbed the stairway, his armoured boots ripping up moss as he went, and stopped just before he became visible to its occupants.

"Only one way to find out Chief! Poke your head round the corner and have a quick look. If they are human, unless they're of a rebel faction, they are unlikely to shoot on sight if they see you." Rebels, he hadn't considered that. Dealing with Covenant, he hadn't had to think about human terrorists in a long time. Still, a handful of troops versus a Spartan? He was crouching just out of sight, he could hear conversations taking place just behind the wall.

"Mmm. That smells good Sam!" Said a hungry Merry.

"Yeah! Even out here in the wilderness, you're still the most amazing cook!" Pip agreed.

Sam blushed a little. He had never liked bragging about his skills. It was an old habit, kids had often teased him in his childhood for being the way he was. A little on the larger side, and with a deep interest in cooking. "If you say so Merry. I wouldn't mind having a few 'erbs with me. Some sage or rosemary! Some nice fried 'taters! It's the best I could manage." He replied. As the others began to tuck into their meals, he smiled warmly, knowing that they were satisfied with what little he had been able to manage. He missed his kitchen!

"They don't sound like the most fierce of people, do they?" Cortana observed. "Go on chief! Use your charms. Summon up a couple of sausages!" Chief wasn't sure. Decades of experience telling him not to reveal himself. He wasn't exactly the most decorated diplomat in the UNSC. He hadn't been trained to ask questions first! But it seemed legitimate. He started creeping forwards.

"Well, I think it tastes delicious Sam. Pass me a couple more tomatoes, if you could?" At that very moment, a little body just outside of the fire's revealing halo began to stir. Frodo was waking up, bolting right round as soon as he sensed the fire behind him, wide awake.

"What are you doing?" He screamed, the look of horror on his face all too obvious. Chief consciously drew back into the shadows, detecting the sudden change in mood. He still hadn't caught a glimpse of them.

"Tomatoes, sausages and nice crispy bacon!" Merry replied, oblivious of the danger they were in.

"We've saved some for you too Mr Frodo." Sam answered politely, completely misinterpreting his friend's distress. Frodo was having none of it, and having rushed over, was already beating the fire out with his foot.

"Put it out you fools! _Put it out_!" Chief would stay out sight for a little while longer, see how this played out. He didn't like the tension in this Frodo's voice. It was thick with fear. Even soldiers of the 26th century hadn't forgotten the danger of building fires in stupid places. This...Frodo wanted to keep his position concealed. But, why? From what?

"Oh that's nice!" Pippin began to complain as his friend knocked the pan over, his uncooked food squashed into the ash and soil. "Ruining all my tomatoes why don't you!"

Then, it happened. A high pitched squeal stabbing out from the darkness. "What on earth?" Cortana gasped, dulling the auto sensors on Chief's armour to protect him from the deafening noise. Chief immediately pitched his head around the wall, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. What he saw stunned him. The people just in front of him, they weren't UNSC personnel, nor were they rebels for that matter!

"Cortana, the people at the camp-fire, they're just- " "-Kids! I know Chief!" She replied finishing his sentence, also shocked by what she saw. Human kids at that. None of this made any sense. They weren't even _in_ their home galaxy! How the hell were any humans, let alone children, all the way out here?

 _"What are they doing all the way out here in the wilderness?"_ She wondered, her confused thoughts riddled with concern for them. "Perhaps they're out camping Chief? But I don't think that's what's going on here. Look at their clothes, they look like refugees! Something is wrong Chief, these kids look terrified. They need help!"

Chief could see that. He wanted to help, it was his duty to protect mankind. Against all reason, humanity was standing right in front of him. How possible could be revealed later. The answers could even lead to a way back home for them both. He had to help them, how could he not? "Chief! Look at your motion tracker, we've got movement. Six contacts!" Chief could see it on his scanner, half a dozen red blips surrounding the tower. He was too far from the cliff face to see who they were...But maybe they didn't have to. One of the kid's drew a knife suddenly as he looked over the side, and the others followed suit.

"Go!" Frodo yells out, pushing the others towards the stairs above. Leaving all their belongings behind, they sprinted up the spiralling steps of the tower. As they ran not two inches from him, Chief went completely still. Letting them pass without knowing he was there. Once gone, he ran to the edge of the cliff so that he could assess the situation. He could only make out five figures now, the last had disappeared. Even his motion tracker only showed five. They looked like humans wearing thick cloaks, with hoods concealing their faces. And all were carrying long, and heavy looking swords.

"It's clear the kids are running from these men. And it's obvious they either want to capture or kill them." Cortana observed.

John considered his options. He could leave now, go back down the stairs and slip by the figures who were approaching. He knew nothing of this situation, why these hooded figures were after these children. But there were potential reasons why these kidnappers were here, and whatever the motives be, no innocent child should be dragged into the wicked affairs of adults. His duty was to humanity, and humanity was right now at risk above him.

Damn bullies! Chief couldn't help but feel anger. The filthy cowards, picking on children? He remembered something terrible that had happened on Arcadia colony, dark memories of genocide. With awful images running through his mind, he took a deep breath and straightened out. He'd made his decision. And he would fight!


	3. A Knife in the Darkness

Frodo and the others were terrified. Another terrible scream broke the silence of the night, tormenting them, mocking them. Too late they'd realised the naivety of their actions. Stood at the peak of the tower, with nowhere left to run to. Huddling at the centre, surrounded by an army of broken stone and ominous weather-beaten statues. Waiting for the first wraith to come. Had they killed Strider? Had their mistake killed him? They were trapped, and knew they were alone.

Chief was checking his equipment, but there wasn't really much to check. A knife is a knife, his armour was functioning normally, and his grenades hadn't gone missing. "What's your plan Chief?" Asked Cortana. Chief had one, and it was very simple.

"A last stand action." He replied in answer. There was only six contacts, armed with swords and daggers. Not much planning was required. They weren't getting through his armour, unless they had more formidable tricks concealed behind those cloaks. All he had to do was send the bullies packing. If anyone else arrived, the next cause of action would be to get the children safely off the tower.

"Chief! Behind you, contact!" Cortana shouted out unexpectedly. Chief span around. One of the cloaked men was behind him, isolated from the others, and was drawing forwards slowly. "He seems a cheery kinda person!" She remarked, breaking the suspense over the audio. She finally had something to take her mind off of the rampancy issue!

The Dark Marshal was a little stunned. High King of Umbar, one of the Nine, callous and malicious amongst even their number. For weeks he had been hunting down weakling hobbits, following the duty of his eternal master. Now that he and the others had finally tracked down their quarry, were about to discover and kill the ring bearer...there was an imposing green giant blocking his way.

"Don't you know that it's wrong to pick on little kids?" Cortana challenged, speaking at the wraith over the armour's loud speaker. John quickly glanced at her, eyes wild in stare for a moment. "Well, sorry, couldn't help it!" She complained. She cursed herself, this wasn't like her! Hopefully he wouldn't realise.

This outburst confused the Dark Martial. The creature sounded female. It certainly didn't look it! "You're not getting through here!" Chief now said in defiance, dry and threateningly. Another voice now! This giant was playing tricks on him! Trying to distract him. Even for a wraith such a himself, who had long ago been freed from the mortal concern of death. This seven foot warrior, with his faceless helmet and strange, impossibly thick armour was very intimidating. It was as if the dark marshal was staring into a version of himself. A parody. A joke! He would not have it! A wraith? Intimidated?

The Dark Marshal would have none of it! Hissing at Chief, the wraith slowly drew his long sword, and started marching towards his enemy. This warrior would not come between him and his prey! "Is this guy serious?" Cortana gasped in amazement, talking only to John this time. The sinister bully was hoping to take out a Spartan, with nothing but an old iron sword? If he honestly thought that was going to cut it, this moron was about to have the shock of his life!

Chief stood poised, expecting still for the hostile to draw something other than this antiquated tool. He wouldn't rule it out. The wraith began to draw forward. You might have seen it smile, had it still possessed a face. The giant was just standing there, and apart from a knife and a few rocks on his belt, was completely unarmed. And then he spoke to Chief. And spoke in the black speech, the language of Mordor. _"Trapped here in the darkness, mortal. You will die tonight!"_

Cortana froze at this. She had terrible memories of the elites, the alien race that even Spartans were vulnerable against. They spoke in their native language during battle. It was maddening, not knowing what they were saying, the fear of not knowing. The dark rasping voice of this shady individual brought all those memories flooding back. "Be careful John." She breathed quietly.

Without hesitation, Chief launched himself at the bully. The off guard wraith barely even registering movement. Chief cobra punched the wraith, who staggered back, hitting the wall of the stairway. Before the dark marshal could recover, Chief had grabbed him by the hood and shoulder, and thrown the surprised wraith clean into the air towards the cliff face behind. Who landed with a crunch of metal against rock.

The skidding wraith stopped himself just before he fell, not an inch away from oblivion. Chief drew his combat knife, and started pacing forwards slowly. Albeit shocked this person was even alive. The wraith came back to his feet, drawing a cruel looking dagger in addition to the sword. This foe was astonishingly powerful. He would not underestimate the giant a second time!

Now the Dark Marshall was in dire circumstances. Standing just in front of the cliff, the twisted shade was one push away from defeat. And with the giant bearing down on him, didn't have the time to retreat from the chasm. In one last gambit, the wraith began to chant. Feeling the dark power of his lord and master flowing through him, the wraith began to weave a terrible spell of bewitchment.

Soon Chief felt unusual. It was as if his usually iron-hard resolve was melting away. He tried to shake the feeling off, but he couldn't. Instead it only grew. He was losing himself, his resolve, and his will to fight and act! But the shadowy figure was still in trouble, at Chief's mercy. Bringing forth all the conviction he could muster, he lunged forwards. Launching a powerful kick into the cloaked figure's chest, Chief sent the servant of darkness hurtling off the side of the cliff, screaming all the way down!

* * *

Aragorn had just made it to the tower. He knew the wraiths were ahead of him. He only hoped he could reach them in time. It was at that moment when a terrible scream fell just behind him. He heard the crash of metal against stone and the flutter of heavy cloaks. To his amazement, a wraith had fallen off the watchtower, and missed him by no less than a hair's breadth. It lay there, motionless, just a pile of cloak and armour. The malevolent spirit had disappeared, its life force gone.

Distracted, he knew that he had to keep moving. Every moment lost lowered the chance of him saving them. As he climbed higher, he began to hear the clash of swords, metal striking metal. He reached the empty campsite. He had little time, but he needed something else with which to fight the wraiths off.

He saw the campfire, the hobbits hadn't done a good job of putting it out. Parts were still burning. Picking up a smouldering brand, Aragorn sheathed his sword for a moment. Taking a powder-like substance from one of his pouches, he sprinkled it over the wood. The brand burst into healthy flame again, and Aragon drew his sword once more. He was ready! As he drew the last of the stairs to the weather top, he heard Frodo scream. He hoped he wasn't too late. He leapt out at the first wraith he saw, oblivious to all else that was taking place...

* * *

(A few moments ago) Chief staggered backwards, slowly feeling his willpower return to him. What the hell had just happened to him? "Are you okay Chief? What's wrong?" His concerned AI asked.

"I'm fine Cortana." He lied. But Cortana knew better. She had known her Spartan for Eight years. He never lost his resolve, never hesitated to attack the enemy. She didn't understand what was happening.

Chief still hadn't quite recovered from the sudden episode. It had felt like an outer body experience, the kind that only madmen and religious zealots described. As if in one moment, decades of conditioning and indoctrination had been all but compromised. Only his instincts remaining. It was then that a great bellow erupted from above. "BACK YOU DEVILS!" It sounded like one of the children, but his voice was filled with fear and rage. Then he heard the familiar clash of metal against metal.

"Chief. The other contacts have beaten you to it! You need to get up there right now!" This was more than enough to snap Chief out of his indecisions. He sprinted up the stairs, launching himself at the first hooded figure he saw. And tackled it to the ground.

The oblivious and dumbstruck creature shrieked loudly as it hit the ground with a heavy crunch. Everyone, Hobbit and wraith alike span around in shock. Sam, who lay dazed from being punched by a heavy gauntlet, lay there with confused eyes. Merry and Pippin, who had only just been thrown to the ground by the Witch King, were capable of only the same. Frodo had the ring on, and was trapped against a pillar with nowhere left to crawl to. He just lay there, staring in amazement at the olive-green giant who had just flattened one of the hooded monsters.

The wraiths were equally as shocked. Who was this new foe? What kind of armour was that? Could their swords even penetrate metal that thick? Chief was holding the struggling wraith down, trapped under his half tonne bodyweight. Chief span it round, staring face to 'face' with his opponent. He brought his knife down hard, stabbing at its forehead.

Instantly, a force exploded all the way up his arm, causing his shield to pulse and flare. Chief hadn't expected it at all, and he was thrown high into the air by the shunt, just like if he had been pummelled by a hunter. He fell hard with a grunt. "Shield power just dropped to 25%. It's like you've been fragged!" Uninjured, saved by his shield, he leapt back to his feet.

The wraiths were closing in. They were stunned by the golden lights that flowed around him. And how he had just leapt back up, apparently unharmed. Even after the fall and after touching the skin of a wraith! They began to back off. What in Arda was this monster? How could something so powerful still feel human? The hobbits were simply too dumbfounded to react. The Witch King of Angmar however, the most hardened of them all, was not. Whilst everyone else was distracted, he began to march once again on a terrified Frodo Baggins.

"There seems to be more to these people than just hoods and swords Chief. Be careful, we have no idea what we're up against!" That blast of energy had certainly been a surprise. Something felt off about these opponents. Chief couldn't describe how but they seemed to inspire an irrational sense of dread and creeping fear within him. His muscles were tight, not relaxed how they always should be. His mind spinning, heart racing. Stomach churning. Not since his meeting with the Gravemind itself had he experienced these feelings. But, he wasn't about to stop defying them.

He sheathed his knife, believing it to be a hindrance now. Nothing had happened before when he had just been hitting them. He and his armour was a superior weapon to a combat knife anyway! Spartans could roll APC's, bring down concrete pillars and uproot trees. He didn't need a weapon, he was a weapon. What was the warrior doing now? Everyone wondered. How was he going to fight with only his bare hands? Was he mad, or, was he going to flee? As Chief marched forwards, his guard up, their doubts were answered. He would fight.

Suddenly, they all heard Frodo cry out in pain, and his friend's eyes expanded in horror as they looked out desperately for him.

"Cortana, where is he? I can't see him!" With nothing on his motion tracker, Cortana attempted to pin point where the screams were coming from.

"I've found his position. By the hostile on your two O' clock!" There was no obstruction of sight. The only way possible was if the kid had a stealth device. But this made no sense. He couldn't have been hiding a power generator. Yet still the dagger was stabbing down, apparently hitting thin air, and the voice of the one called Frodo kept crying out in pain.

Chief knew that it had to be, and he needed to act immediately. There was masonry all around. He picked up a rock. The fragment was large as his own helmet. He threw it hard, just after the wraith withdrew its blade from Frodo's chest. The Witch King was thrown forwards as the hunk of stone thumped straight into its back. Shaken and dazed, he fell onto one knee. He hadn't seen it coming!

All the wraiths then cried out, apparently in fear. Chief turned, and saw a man armed with a sword and burning brand, suddenly thrashing out at and wildly beating the robed assassins back. Sweeping in a wide arc, Aragorn shoved his burning brand into one of the wraiths, and it began to scream as its dry cloak caught alight. This caused complete chaos amongst the others. One of the cowards fled right there and then! Abandoning its comrades without second thought.

It was at this point where the ghosts began to scatter. Chief's defiance alone had been enough to weaken their resolve, but now, the threat of this other was too much. The Nazgul drew their power from the fear they inspired, and they were inspiring none in this fight. The Ring Bearer was marked, soon to die. Their job done, it was time to fly.

Another of the assassins charged at Chief, trying to fight its way to the stairway. _"Time to end this!"_ He thought to himself. He grabbed hold of it, its sword bouncing harmlessly off his shield. Lifting the furious wraith up above his head, he launched it into one five meters away. The hobbits collectively gasped at the feat of strength.

This is when Aragorn became aware of the other man amongst them. As the two screaming wraiths came together, collapsing in a pile of cloaks and ethereal limbs, he turned his head, and his jaw dropped in shock. A giant of a man was battling the wraiths. Olive green armour, no sword, neglecting the knife at his side. An astonishing gold aura surrounding him! Beating the hooded monsters back with his bare hands!

Aragorn almost missed a wraith's sword coming towards him, and was thrown back, put off balance as he quickly parried the strike. Focussed, he recovered and drove forwards with wild abandon, pushing the wraith towards the edge of the weather top. He would not be bested by this denizen.

Chief was still preoccupied with the two wraiths picking themselves off the ground. As he strafed forwards, the quicker of the two wraiths grabbed its weapon and advanced on John once more. As it raised the sword above his head, about to bring it down. It received a soccer kick to the stomach for its troubles. The wraith keeled over, lifted off the ground by the immense power of the assault. Sword torn out of the wraith's grip, it clattered noisily against the cold stone floor. Terrified, and with its mind swimming, it crawled away from the battle. Cowering and in fear.

Chief bent down, hefting up the other by its shoulders, holding it high. He then tried to get its hood down. It took massive effort, like trying to pull a steel bulkhead apart, but he eventually succeeded. Noting, none of the life he had ever seen, prepared Chief for what he saw next. He'd expected a man in some kind of armour. But no, this thing was truly alien. He had seen Mgalekgolo, trilling drones and sophisticated forerunner AI's. But this creature, this being was just as bizarre and terrifying as the flood.

Time slowed to a trickle within his mind. A creature, no, a shadow was hanging before him. A glowing, featureless mass of onyx black. A pale aura surrounded it, white as the stars and moon above, the light of which reflected off this creatures' skin, skin like the purest glass. It turned its head, and Chief couldn't even tell if the creature was staring at him. Was this one of the aliens of this planet?

Aragorn had just beaten back his opponent. The monster, whom hadn't fought anything for near 70 years was no match for the war honed ranger of the North. Turning to the giant, his eye was drawn to the hoodless wraith, and was fascinated by it. He had never seen a wraith before, not without its mantle. He'd fought barrow wrights and shades in the desolate artic wastes of the north, all cruel spectral beings. But this creature was the most otherworldly of them all!

It was at this moment where Frodo re-appeared, and his cry turned every head, even those of the sadistic wraiths. "MR FRODO!" Sam shouted, springing suddenly into action and rushing over to his friend. Aragorn scanned the courtyard, and spied the witch king, sneaking off the side. The wraith turned, seeing Aragorn, seeing the look of revenge and contempt in the ranger's eyes: Too late to react.

What the Chief saw next impressed him deeply. The warrior, also fighting the monsters, launched his burning brand at the remaining one, and struck it clean in the centre of its 'face'. The creature screamed in shock and pain as it retreated from the field. "Wow!" Cortana commented.

"Not now Cortana!" John warned, knowing that there was a very brave, but very hurt kid behind him. Chief came back to face his struggling opponent. Who was still being held by Chief, at his mercy. It was then that John noticed how heavy the alien was. No larger than a human, yet felt as heavy as an armoured elite! He stared straight at the featureless creature, his own eyeless visor not three centimetres from its face.

"My master, will not allow you to live...demon!" It said in its rasping, whispering voice. Chief almost smirked, he seemed to get that name from all his enemies. The wraith was arrogant, it knew that the powerful warrior was just a man. It could sense his very soul. Whilst his life essence was one of hardness, utterly defiant and unbendable, it was still the life essence of a mere mortal human.

The wraith grabbed a morgul blade from under his cloak, and tried to stab at him through the visor. Doing almost nothing. Chief, shield glowing, brought the wraith crashing down to the floor in response. Holding its neck and throttling the creature, lying right on top of it. "What are you!?" It hissed at him in pain, struggling with every word as Chief's hands crushed down on it. Chief only had four more words for the terrible alien he was sitting on.

"I am a Spartan." Then with all his power, he head-butted the wraith, so hard that it broke is connection with the physical universe, banishing it irresistibly. Chief let the figure fall, and watched in curiosity as the empty cloth and armour fell to the ground with a muffled clang. He knelt, examining the remains, climbing down onto one knee as he did so. This was indeed all that was left of the being. _"How strange!"_

With no knowledge of how this could be, he went to get up, but he stopped dead. Chief felt the point of a sword in the back of his neck. Aragorn wasn't sure if his sword would actually overcome the creatures armour, or the ward that shielded it. But knew that the threat itself would give the giant pause for thought...if a fight were to follow however, the heir of Isildur didn't fancy his chances!

Chief knew his armour was proof against such primitive weaponry. Maybe after an hour of sustained attacks, the sword would breach his body suit. So long as the blade didn't break before then. Which it would. But all this was irrelevant. This man was simply defending the children. Perhaps he was their guardian, or their father? He needed to wind this situation down. Cool as ever, Chief opened his mouth to speak to the sword-drawn Ranger. "That's funny way of saying thanks, if you ask me..."


	4. The Strangest Mission Yet

Aragorn feared for the hobbit's safety. The Nazgûl would return, and having seen first-hand what this new creature was capable of...the way it had tossed that wraith as if it were a weightless rag doll. The way it had marched between them without hesitation. Suffice to say, he didn't feel safe either. Such strength, it was as if one of the many statues surrounding the tower had come alive! That's why he had a sword pointed at the warrior's back. "What in Arda are you?" He demanded menacingly, almost at a whisper.

"STRIDER!" Sam screamed suddenly at him. Frodo was badly hurt. It was clear to Chief that this man, the child's apparent protector, would want to help him. This was the leverage he needed to get out of this standoff peacefully.

"My name does not matter..." He began to explain. "But I am human, just like you. I mean no harm, I only meant to help the children. I suggest you move the blade away and let me stand."

Aragorn was stunned. This thing claimed to be human! Why should he trust him? It was interesting. Now that the being had spoken in that calm and gritty voice, it no longer seemed possible that he was a servant of darkness. Was this just a trick however? As another cry of pain escaped the young hobbit, his humanity got the better of him. If this warrior were a servant of Sauron, he would have known the difference between a hobbit and a human. Or, was this just another trick? Aragorn winced in defeat, he _had_ to help Frodo.

"Anything at all, to give me reason why I should not trust you. And I will kill you." He told him. Chief did not respond at first. Not a flinch, nothing. The calmness of the warrior told Aragorn that it did not fear him at all. Something that didn't bode well for him and the others. The more he assessed the Spartan's power, the more he began to realise he stood no chance.

John understood the hostility. And knew the fear Spartan's could inspire. He could see that same look in the man's eyes, a look he'd seen in so many eyes during his time. It was not something he wanted to. He needed to inspire trust right now. This individual was only protecting his own. "I understand" Chief replied. "The ones behind you are in good hands." He said, acknowledging the hobbits with a nod.

And with that, Aragorn seemed to be satisfied.

He slowly moved the blade away. Chief rose as he did, matching the speed of the strangers' sword arm. Fully stood, John turned to face Aragorn. And the ranger's jaw clenched as he stared into the faceless death-mask of the warrior before him. A towering beast of a man. Broad shouldered, and rising a full head above the already very tall ranger. And his remarkable armour...more like the hide of some scaly ocean predator than something forged by a blacksmith. So thick it would surely be immune to any mortal weapon. Yet at the same time, it was oddly familiar to him.

Had it not been for the warrior's size, he might have believed this being was an elf. For as remarkable as the suit was, it wasn't a million leagues away from high elf battle dress in appearance. Yet of all his attributes, it was the golden visor that Strider truly marvelled at. He'd never seen anything like it. Like the most polished gold, or the most flawless of stained glass. He felt awestruck. The giant was intimidating, yes, but Aragorn had to admit, he was more in wonder of him than he was fearful. Something about this being's nature emboldened doughtiness, not terror in his heart.

Finally sheathing his sword, he rushed over to Frodo. His instincts were telling him there was no danger in the being behind him. Chief also wanted to aid the wounded boy, but needed to gain this man's trust first. Trust was not something earned easily, but the fact that this warrior had sheathed his weapon was a good sign.

"What should I call you?" Chief asked, as the stranger examined the child's injuries. Aragorn didn't answer, he was examining the dagger that the Witch King had been holding. As he began to turn it over in examination, his face went deathly pale.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." He said bitterly, just as the weapon began to disintegrate in his hands. It was a detail that Chef didn't fail to notice. _"Strange!"_ the only blades he'd ever known behave like that were the crystal daggers unique to Kig-Yar pirates. Frodo began to cry out all the louder, his condition growing progressively worse. Chief knew the adrenaline circulating the kid's system was wearing off. With these pain numbing chemicals gone, he would start to feel the true agony of the wound.

"What's the lad's name?" He asked the stranger, who still hadn't given his. Aragorn ignored him once again. Dealing with the child he obviously had higher priorities then answering his questions.

"His name is Frodo." Aragorn finally replied. "But he is no child, he is of a race called hobbits. He is an adult, just like the others...you may call me Strider." Chief knew it wasn't his real name. Then again, how often did he give his own?

"Hobbits? Interesting. You can call me Master Chief." Aragorn gave him a quizzical look, but he brushed the strangeness of the answer off. He hadn't given 'Chief' his real name after all.

Sam was concerned with Frodo, but Merry and Pippin couldn't bring their eyes away from the colossal being standing before them. "What are you?" asked Merry. "Where did you come from?" as did Pippin. Chief was working on something to say, or on whether to say anything at all in reply. It was then that Cortana piped up.

"Their friend is in a bad way and needs help ASAP. No point answering Chief. I doubt they'd understand the answers." She was right. Frodo came first.

"Such things can wait. We need to get Frodo away from this place. Somewhere safe-" "-Why Should we trust you?!" Sam bellowed, turning on the Chief. Red faced and desperate with worry. He wanted to protect his friend.

This one would be hard to earn the trust of. John knew how to resolve that quickly, but he wasn't keen. He was sure it would stop any further questions, and prove where his loyalties lay. Just this once. He shocked everyone with his next move, even Cortana. John did something that he just never did. He took his helmet off.

Frodo was in too much pain to notice, but everyone else, Sam, Merry, Pip, even Aragorn stared at him with surprise. He was indeed human! With piercing blue eyes, a strong brow line, and unearthly pale skin. As if his flesh hadn't seen the light of the sun for many, many years. He commanded such majesty, and there was something of an angelic quality about him. Was he a Miar, one of the Valar? They all recalled the falling star. But the appearance of the two were coincidence, right?

This reaction was one of the many reasons why John never took his helmet off. His point made, he quickly replaced his headgear, the gentle hiss of his armour seal re-forming reassuring him greatly. But the silence continued. The only thing breaking it being the cool night air as it breathed leisurely above.

Aragorn was the first to respond. "Master Chief is right, danger has not yet flown from here, we need to get Frodo away from here." He had no choice but to trust him. He needed every help he could get at this moment, and questions could wait. "This wound goes beyond my skill to heal, I cannot stop the blades' poison." He announced, worrying the hobbits further. And the Chief to.

The blade was poisoned? That was a major complication. Chief didn't know how to stop it either, but they also needed to stop the bleeding. This was straightforward, but he had a dilemma. Bio foam would suffice, but Frodo wasn't human. He didn't know how the chemicals would react with his biology. He wouldn't risk it, he needed an alternative. A low tech solution would suffice.

"I know how to seal the wound. Give me a moment." He sprant down to where their camp had been. He then took one of the Hobbits blankets. He could tell they were of suitable material, strong and watertight. He rushed back up to treat Frodo. Hoping that the cloth was clean enough, he started to rip a section off. Using strong but dexterous hands, quickly improvising a makeshift compress and external bandages. Aragorn watched the Spartan work with much interest.

In under a minute, his hands trained by hundreds of hours of practice, John had completely covered up the wound at the abdomen with an ideal quantity of well fitted dressing. "Well, that was pretty fast!" Pippin remarked, feeling a little more relieved by this act of charity. It was clear in his mind that this warrior was on their side.

Aragorn went to pick him up, but Chief stopped him. Putting a hand on his shoulder. Aragorn flinched at his touch. How could he not? "I can carry him, if you would let me." The warrior announced. Aragorn still wasn't sure if he trusted him. But with his size and his build, and being able to wear that armour of his, the man would certainly have an easier job of it.

"Thank you. Take care with him! I swore by my life I would see him safe." It was a supreme risk to place such trust in someone he knew not. The hobbits weren't too keen about the idea either, but bit their tongues, too scared to challenge him. As a Spartan, John's duty was to humanity. These, hobbits, were human in his eyes. They needed his help, and he would not leave them.

"I will do what I can for Frodo. And I will get you all to safety." He replied. Everyone was in awe of his selflessness, and grateful for his aid. With that, the group climbed down the steps of Amon Sul, and went off through the undergrowth. The hobbits had themselves a powerful new ally...

* * *

A little while later, Cortana was speaking privately with Chief. And it was obvious that she was struggling with this strange new environment. "So, that's what they call those creatures here. Wraiths...wraiths, hobbits, and if I heard Strider correctly, elves will be next! What will it be after that? Dwarfs? Wizards? Demons and Dark Lords?" She said blustering, filled with anger about the whole horrid situation. It was totally absurd!

Chief shared the sentiment. There were three little men scurrying after him, and that was the least of it. Something was really off about this world, he could feel it. He'd fought, killed and driven off shadow-men with swords. Swords of all things! And tools with no obvious qualities that set them apart from the ones of history passed. He'd immediately assumed there were something else to them. Perhaps mono-edged weapons at least? Never underestimate an adversary! Even with Strider he'd taken no chances. But he wouldn't wonder about it right now. Getting these people to safety, who he could still only describe as refugees, was his primary concern.

Strider was by Chief's side, leading the way. John had not met many people like this man. He could tell that from the off. He was strong, brave and selfless. He had great dignity and calm, and was more stoic than some ODST's he had encountered. But more than that, he commanded an aura of great wisdom about him. Something noble.

"I don't understand you Chief!" He spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. "Very few men wish to remain by someone's side after encountering the Nazgûl. How is it that you stand so unflinchingly into the face of doom, with no other reasons than those of charity?"

Perhaps he was Valar! Aragorn knew something was happening here that he didn't understand. Was this truly who had emerged from the casket that had fallen from above? He dared to even think about it. For now he was content with this stranger's aid. He needed to get the hobbits, and their package, to Rivendell. But why was the Chief helping them? For Aragorn, the reasons for his selflessness were unfathomable. But from Chief's perspective, it was very straightforward. "It is my duty to protect humanity. Whatever the cost. I have been trained to do this for nearly all my life."

Aragorn had never heard such things from anyone. Who on Arda was this man? He was fascinating! "Where do you come from? Who taught you to be the man you are?" He asked.

John was unsure about that question. "I am...not from around here." He began to say, but Cortana quickly interrupted him once more. "Chief it might be a good idea to start thinking of some white lies to tell them. Don't bombard them with answers that they will not understand!" Chief took the advice, performing an early conversational U-Turn.

"I represent an elite fighting force within my people, a land of...United Nations. We call ourselves Spartans. We are given the best training and equipment that humanity can provide." This puzzled Strider a little. Least of all that there were human kingdoms he hadn't heard of before.

"So, you are a leader of one of these unified realms?"

"No." Chief replied. "Master Chief is not a political title. Its a military one. To show that I am authorised to lead soldiers into battle." Aragorn frowned. This answer only added to his confusions.

"And a powerful soldier you are." Which was understating it to be sure. "But tell me. I can see easily how your armour and your might is so remarkable. But what of weapons? You are armed with no more than a large knife and a few stones!" Cortana couldn't help but giggle at his greenness.

"I imagine that my knife is a lot stronger than anything you're used to Strider. It's made from steel, and another metal called titanium. It's stronger and lighter than anything made from iron alone." Strider had never heard of titanium. Was this what the warrior called mithril? Or some other undiscovered metal? He said he came from an elite band of warriors. Were there more of these Spartans? Were they like him?

"Also" Chief continued, "The 'stones' you see are not crude projectiles. They are filled with an...unstable chemical mix, that detonates at the pull of a lever. When they detonate they send out shards of razor sharp metal, hundreds of such fragments at great speed across a wide area. They are thrown into the centre of enemy formations, sending them sprawling for cover. For enemies who don't know about the weapons power, the results can be very...gory."

Aragorn stared curiously at the small metal orbs around Chief's waist. Could something so small really cause so much destruction? The principle behind the weapon seemed sound, but that was as far as his knowledge went.

"Are there more people like you? Other Spartans?" The smallest of the hobbits asked John innocently, and very nervously for that matter. "There used to be." He said quietly. "Most of them are dead...what is your name?" He asked, moving off a difficult topic.

"I'm Pippin" He answered, then pushed the tallest of the hobbits. "This is my best friend, Merry!" Who then nodded at Chief, then quickly averted his gaze. "The last two are Samwise Gamgee..."

"...hello Mr Chief!" Sam greeted, his formality making the others smile. "And my poor friend on your shoulders is called-" "-Frodo" Chief finished.

The ranger nodded solemnly. "Yes. Frodo Baggins. And we need to get him to the elves as soon as possible."

There were a few tears in the eyes of Sam, who seemed to be hurt the most at the suffering of his friend. "But its six days from Rivendell on foot Strider. Poor Frodo will never make it!"

Frodo suddenly came round a little, shouting out deliriously. "Ga-gandalf!"

"Come on Frodo! Don't give in! Fight it!" Aragorn said encouragingly.

"GANDALF!" He wailed again. Chief was sure the delirious hobbit couldn't hear anyone. He was too far gone.

"Strider, he's going to die in the next few hours if we can't help him right now. The poison, is there anything we can do to stop its spread?"

Cortana was listening to all of this. Powerless to help, her heart was heavy. "If only I had access to a UNSC medical." Her voice was low and drawn, she was feeling badly for him. Empathy! Pure empathy.

Aragorn knew too that Frodo didn't have long. "Chief! Can you let Frodo down? Rest him down somewhere in this clearing, somewhere safe." Chief did as he was told. Strider had an aura of leadership about him, he could sense it. Decades of experience was telling Chief that he could trust the man's judgement. He placed Frodo down in a pile of ferns, and sat next to him.

Frodo was now in the safest place possible. Under the protection of a Spartan. As he guarded the clearing, Chief began to analyse his surroundings. There were strange statues all around them, three of them. They weren't based on humans, and they reminded Chief a little of brutes. "Look Mr Frodo! Its Bilbo's trolls!" Sam said eagerly as he recognised the statues. Trying to lift his friend's spirits.

"Trolls?!" Cortana groaned. "Oh I give up!"

Frodo started to groan again. His voice was strained and sounded almost unearthly. His stifled cries were discomforting, and seemed to be affecting Sam the most out of all of them. "Mr Frodo? Strider he's going cold!" The ranger came rushing over, opening Frodo's eyes and placing a hand on his forehead. His eyes were white and milky, and the deep brown irises that had once been were gone completely. This was bad!

"The poison is taking hold. It won't be long until he passes into the netherworld, becoming a wraith like them." This was a shocking revelation. Chief was stunned, could a simple toxin cause someone to turn into one of those...things? This was like nothing he'd ever heard of. Was Strider bullshitting them? Some kind of sick joke? The most disturbing thing was though, that there had been no hint of lie in his eyes when he had said it.

A high pitched shriek shot through the quiet night air. Long and piercing. A sound everyone had heard before. Accompanied by a sensation of unnatural dread they were learning to hate. The Nazgûl were back. "That call can't have been more than two kilometres away." Cortana updated, "They're searching for us!" The others also knew how close they were.

"Strider. How do we stop the poison?" There was urgency in Chief's voice. It would take a while, but their position would eventually be discovered. They needed to act right now. Aragorn had one idea. He didn't know how to stop the poison completely. But perhaps...

"Sam. Quick! Do you know about the Athelas plant?" Sam didn't know.

"Athelas?" He replied, obviously confused. Aragorn rolled his eyes. Athelas was its elvish name!

"Kingsfoil Sam." Sam nodded, "Aye Strider, it's a weed!"

 _"Good!"_ The ranger thought to himself. He wasn't completely clueless. "It may help to slow the spread of the poison, come with me." The two took off into the woods to find some, leaving Chief alone with his thoughts, and the remaining hobbits.

The clearing was silent.

As Merry and Pippin began to stare at him, Chief wasn't sure who the most uncomfortable man in the clearing was. Frodo, critically wounded, fighting a losing battle against a horrible poison. The other two, terrified about Spartans and Wraiths. Or himself. Because of all things, he had almost always removed himself from social situations.


	5. History Becomes Legend

John sat down, relaxing onto a log which lay behind him. Even though he came down gently, the moss-covered wood still creaked and groaned as half a tonne of soldier compressed onto it. He looked down at the moaning, deathly pale hobbit lying next to him. Pulling some more bedding cloth out from under his armour, he began performing the standard task of replacing his wound's dressing, preventing the spread of infection best he could without the use of medicines.

Strider had said he would become one of the creatures he'd fought. What the hell could do that? Some kind of biological agent? Had he never encountered the Flood, John would have never believed such an assertion. However he did not have such fortune. He knew terrible horrors like the Flood existed. He was willing to believe the man, as outlandish as his claim would have appeared to anyone else.

Besides, the lad was certainly showing textbook signs of some kind of infection. His breath was sharp and irregular. As was his tiny, fast-beating heart. But more unusually, his core temperature was dangerously low. It was as if something was syphoning the life out of him. And action needed taking.

"Pippin. Pass me your coat."

The hobbit all but jumped at the sudden call of his name. But other than that made no response. Shocked stiff, and confused by the Spartan's order.

"Frodo needs it more than you do. We need to keep his body temperature stable."

Pippin looked at his suffering friend. Then back at the Chief. With a nod, he understood. His caring nature overpowering his fear and mistrust of the threatening metal man. He came quickly over, un-knotting his straps, removing his hooded cloak and with Chief's help they wrapped Frodo inside it. Then he scurried back away, to where his friend was sat. And the glade was still and silent once more.

"You know he's a timorous beastie to be sure. But that act took a hell of a lot of courage." Cortana noted. And she was correct. These people had zero reason to trust him. Desperation was the single reason they'd allowed his help them at all. Pippin was tiny, child-like. Astonishing to think he was an adult. A Spartan could kill him with an accidental slap. And yet the boy, knowing all that, had approached him still. To help his friend.

The Master Chief gave a deep sigh, looking at the grass below his feet. So far, this had not been a good day. Then again, he couldn't actually remember the last 'good' day he'd had.

"Uhm, Mr Spartan sir?" A timid voice asked, breaking the silence of the night. John looked up, and saw that Pippin was approaching him, rather nervously at that. He was pretty scared, and was looking at John as if he was about to turn into some fierce beast and tear his head off! His friend Merry was watching them both warily, from a distance.

"May I...eh, ask you something?" He enquired hesitantly. John nodded in reply, but this only seemed to make the little hobbit more nervous. "Uhm, If you, err, don't mind me asking, sir...whatsaspartan?" Saying these last words so quickly that even Chief missed them.

"Pardon?" He replied, a little amused by the inquisitive hobbit. "Calm down Pippin, I am not going to hurt you. I promise." He was trying to be nice. The hobbit was so small, so vulnerable looking. Scared witless, knowing the danger that had almost killed them would soon return. He had to reassure them somehow.

John knew that talking always helped take a person's mind off bad situations. And whilst he never made unnecessary conversation himself, he knew that the hobbits needed uplifting. They were not soldiers, just frightened civilians thrust into a wide and dangerous world. He would try his best with them.

Pippin was no more than a stride away from him. John placed a large hand on the inquisitive Hobbit's shoulder. Who amazed by how gentle it was, finally began to relax. "What's a Spartan?" He asked again, far more clearly than before. "I overheard you and Strider talking about them!" There was a pause, as the Spartan looked up into the canopy above them and thought about what he was going to say next.

"A person" Chief began to say, "Who has been changed into a powerful warrior." The young hobbit wouldn't understand what a super-soldier was. Chief wasn't sure this person even had a concept of soldierly yet. He didn't want to give too much information away. And classified was classified. But Pippin, of course, had many more questions to ask him.

"I asked before if there were others. You said there were, but that most aren't any more. What happened to them?" His voice was filled with a mix of wonder, and a little concern. He was wondering what in Arda it took to bring down a band of seven foot tall warriors. Strong as Olyphants, wielding giant armoured suits and magic energies that protected them from harm! What could possibly defeat them?

Before Chief could utter so much as a syllable, the little hobbit came and sat right next to him. Pippin was starting to trust him. Between himself and the wraiths, John was the only safety he had.

Now though, Chief wasn't quite sure what to do. Wasn't used to the intimacy. He'd never found himself in this situation before. Cortana was reading the situation, and noticing that John's heart rate started to increase a little, intervened. "Pippin seems to feel safe around you Chief. Maybe you could go somewhere with that?" John didn't have any better ideas, and decided to go with that.

"Not scared of me anymore, are you?" He joked. Pippin blushed a little, and just smiled and nodded. Cortana smiled warmly at this. "Good Chief! Keep going!" she needed to praise and encourage him. Pippin wasn't the only one who needed reassuring. Cortana was starting to see another side to John. Not as a Spartan, but as a human. As a person.

Keeping the conversation going, Chief decided to lead with a small lie, then go on from there. It was for the best. "My people live off to the east. Thousands of leagues from here." He remembered how Cortana had told him about the volcanic lands, and the mountain ranges after that. The nearby lands were filled with forests and lush grasslands. To the west of the volcanic plains were ice-covered mountains and wide open plains. To the east there were deserts. He didn't know what was beyond this, _The Dawn_ had only been able to see so much. But he knew that the deserts had to end eventually. To be replaced by what?

"Mine was a…country of prosperity and potential." He began to say. He had guessed there was no one around here who had knowledge of such territories, seeing the blank look that he was getting from the hobbit. "My people were wise, and were capable of doing much good. Then war came, and my people fought against a civilization called the Covenant." Chief stopped abruptly. He couldn't believe that he was talking about the war in this way!

Pippin realised with a rush of excitement that Chief was starting to tell a story. He loved stories! He stopped and thought for a moment, reflecting on what Chief had told him so far. "What does a covenant look like Chief?" He asked the Spartan innocently. Cortana laughed a little, she could see how easily Pip might have thought that!

Before he could continue, John then saw Merry. The hobbit had gotten up from his hiding spot. He was coming over now! He seemed to be gathering an audience. Meriadoc didn't trust the Spartan yet. Why should he after all? But he was intrigued, and had his own questions to ask him.

"Begging your pardon, Mr Chief sir." He began, feeling as nervous as his cousin. "You wouldn't happen to have come from that fallen star, now would you?" He wasn't believing his story about coming from a distant land, and had already invented his own theories about the mysterious warrior.

The Spartan's olive-green helmet cocked to the side upon hearing this statement. "Fallen star?" Then he realised that Merry had to be referring to _The Dawn_. "No" He lied. It would be pointless saying yes. He wanted to shut the hobbits up, not to inspire a hundred games of twenty questions.

He checked to see if Frodo was stable. For the moment, he seemed to be. At least his condition didn't seem to be growing worse. Serious, but stable. So Chief continued the story. It would keep the inquisitive hobbits quiet until Strider returned. "The Covenant is not one species Pippin. The Covenant are a unified people, seven races cooperating under a single, dangerous belief." Pippin and Merry were fascinated. Merry asked him a question first.

"I assume you mean a religious belief. What was that?" Religious fanaticism was not something found in the Shire. It was a good question From Merry, Chief realised. It showed wisdom, and displayed an eagerness to learn. But, it was a hard question to come up with a good answer to.

"The Covenant were led by one of the seven species. They called themselves Prophets. The Prophet's believed that their race was special, that some greater destiny awaited them. That one day, they would go on a great journey, where they would become one with their gods. They called their gods forerunners, people who had once shaped the...world to their choosing." It was hard to put these details into terms that they would understand.

"The forerunners had the power to shape mountains, move oceans and move the stars. They were not the only beings to live above, and they had fought with...demons, demons who wished to steal the world from them. These demons were called the Flood, and they wanted to use the world for their own terrible reasons." He watched as Pippin shivered a bit. _"Even their name sounds frightening!"_ The young lad thought to himself.

"The forerunners created weapons that would defeat the flood. The weapons would destroy them completely...but do so at a terrible cost." Chief was struggling here himself. The UNSC still knew so little about the Forerunners, and half of what they did know was down to him and Cortana alone.

"The weapons were so powerful that they could destroy all life in the world. Even the forerunners themselves would be killed. Once that they had ensured that life would survive the cataclysm, they used the weapons. In the long run, this allowed the flood to be destroyed." From a certain point of view, Chief wasn't actually lying to them. Chief had the hobbits on the 'edge of their seats'!

"The Prophets believed that the forerunners hadn't been destroyed, but had ascended to a greater plain of existence. They wanted to ascend as well. But they were fools. Their belief was wrong, the weapons only purpose was to destroy the flood." It was quite pitiful, in a way. How misguided they had been.

"My people eventually encountered the Covenant. We rejected the teachings of the Prophets. They had no right to force their beliefs onto us. They were ruthless, and our resistance lead to all-out war. The Covenant were strong, stronger than we were. They had better weapons, and many of their species were more powerful than humans. It was not a war of conquest. These monsters wanted to exterminate my people. Wipe us out completely. Worst of all, we were losing!"

It was difficult for him to talk to them about this. The war had ended years ago, but for him, the pain and grief was still very near. The hobbits looked horrified enough just hearing all this, they'd never heard of something so terrible. Genocide was practically unheard of amongst the free peoples. Nothing in the history of the word had wrought as much death as the Covenant had.

"Out of desperation, we started to create new weapons. Most deadly, were the Spartans. We Spartans were mightier than everything the Covenant possessed. But our numbers were too few to win the war by ourselves. Nor was anything else we created enough to stop them. My people knew that they would eventually be destroyed. We needed a miracle...and against all odds, a miracle happened." He stopped, he needed to think. What should he say next? The details were difficult to put into context.

"What miracle Chief? What happened?" Merry asked. He was completely lost in the story now, and his theories had been blown out of the water completely.

"Some races of the Covenant were well read and wise. We could never understand why they accepted the Prophets without question. Then, a hero emerged. A being called the Arbiter, learned of the truth, that the Prophets were liars. He learned that ascension itself was a lie. It shattered what faith he had. He told the rest of his race what he had learned. His revelations divided his people, between those who were loyal to their own kind, and those who were loyal to the Prophets."

Merry and Pippin felt for him, they really did. Whether or not this tale was true or not, it was obviously one of tragedy and heartbreak. They had heard tales of war and conquest before, but none of them in quite this way. "What happened then Chief?" Merry asked, as sensitively as he could. He sensed that much of this story was based on true events.

"This conflict within the Covenant erupted into outright civil war. The Arbiters race was a people called the sangheili, and they were arguably the most important members of the Covenant. They lead their armies into battle, and were one of the most numerous and mighty of the races. The Prophets were physically frail, and needed the other species, like the sangheili, to succeed. Their holy crusade against my people was stopped in its tracks once they rebelled. Sensing weakness, we formed a truce with the Arbiter and his people, forgiving the evils they had committed. Survival was more important than any grudges held." Chief himself couldn't believe that they had done this so easily. Desperation was powerful indeed.

"In one final battle, we met the Covenant on the field...and we won. The Prophets power over their people was broken, and while they would continue to believe in the great journey, the others would not. Some of them had never believed, and had been cruelly enslaved by the prophets long ago. A great betrayal occurred, and many of the Prophets' leaders were assassinated. Fearing for their lives, the remaining members fled, and remain hidden to this day. The Arbiter then lead his people away, back to their homeland, where his race could live out in peace. My people also began to re-build. An era of cooperation between humans and sangheili had now begun..."

He was almost tempted to say, 'And we all lived happily ever after!' Cortana was beginning to have a bad influence on him! The two hobbits meanwhile were left in complete silence. They almost didn't know what to say.

"That...is...THE GREATEST STORY I HAVE EVER HEARD!" Exclaimed a very giddy Pippin, if a little insensitively. Merry was calmer, trying to make sense of the story. "That's a lot to take in Chief! How much of the story is true?" John thought for a little while.

"Spartans, like myself, were created. There was a war, and all the Covenant species and the Arbiter exist. That was what the Prophets and their followers believed in: Whether or not the forerunners and their weapons existed or not...might never be known...it was a silly belief after all!" He was lying to them, but with good reason. He didn't want to start the Covenant all over again. With sheer fright, John realised there was a danger he could do just that. How else would simple people like these hobbits view a race capable of wiping out a million worlds as anything other than gods!

Meanwhile, his audience were truly amazed. They would be sure to tell this story again someday. To friends and loved ones. And they agreed, it sounded like a strange belief. There must have been something to it however, for it to inspire the Covenant into inflicting such terrible things on Chief's people. Was it hope, of a better life perhaps? But all that could be achieved in the real world, a fantasy realm wasn't needed. The Shire was a living testament of this. A simple life of home, food and family was all the hobbits wanted. And they missed their home with all their hearts.

It was then that John noticed the aching pain in his stomach. Something he could not continue to ignore. He'd been without food for long enough. "Now, do you have anything to eat in those big rucksacks of yours?" He suddenly asked them. The hobbits were a little surprised, but quickly sprang into action.

"Sure!" Merry answered. "We're not hungry after all this, but if you are…" The two immediately started rummaging around in their sacks. Reaching deep into his, Pippin pulled something out. Wrapped in thick white paper that rustled loudly as the hobbit opened it. "Here Chief! You must be starved. It's the only thing we have left that doesn't need to be cooked. It's a nice fat sandwich. Enjoy!"

He handed it to Chief, smiling at him. John couldn't help but marvel at the meal. The sandwich was as big as the hobbit's heads! He took it without a word. Cortana was not impressed. "What do you say John?" She asked him, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Thanks" He said simply. Glaring at Cortana through his HUD.

"Oh don't give me that look. You know I'm right!" She challenged back playfully. She had really missed him after all these years of being apart.

Chief removed his helmet with a hiss, which made the hobbits jump. Then he began to munch the meal down. It had ham, goats cheese, crunchy lettuce and finely smoked bacon. It was good. Eating in the efficient way all Spartans did, accelerated by hunger, he demolished the colossal sandwich in two minutes flat. Again, the two hobbits were a little wide eyed. Pippin spoke first.

"That was fast Chief! You should challenge the Boulgers to an eating competition: Greatest competitive eaters in the Shire. You'd give them a run for their money!" Chief wasn't sure, he had never participated in things like that. They were not conducive of a disciplined and practical outlook. He saw such things as pointless. "Maybe, some other time perhaps." He said, pushing his helmet down once more. The Hobbits seemed satisfied with that.

Just then, there was movement coming through the trees. A single contact lit up on his motion tracker, and a bright light, like a flare, was growing ever brighter. Chief sprang into action, drawing his knife, holding it in a defensive reverse grip whilst Merry and Pippin ran behind him. Drawing their own blades. What was it? Some Kind of wraith? Yet when he saw what it was...he was a little surprised.

The person seemed to be human. Elegant, clean and fair. With long flowing robes and silky, flowing hair. "Doesn't look like an evil being to me Chief. Maybe she's here to help?" Chief was in agreement, he decided to sheath his knife. But stayed on guard. He was taking few chances.

Two more contacts lit up. Aragorn and Sam were following behind, returning hopefully with their medicine. It was needed urgently. Kneeling in examination of his charge, Frodo seemed to have taken another turn for the worse. His pulse was erratic, and in this cold autumn night, his body temperature had shot right down. Worse than it had before.

The stranger was now dismounting her horse. John was getting a strange vibe from this woman. It was like she wasn't human, and simply looked just like one. Then, as she knelt tentatively besides Frodo, pushing her long hair back, Chief finally took note of her pointed ears.

"Who is she?" Pippin asked, no one took any notice. Then Merry saw the ears. His jaw dropped.

"She's an elf!" he whispered in awe. His gaze flashed back to her as she and Strider helped her place Frodo in a saddle. _''An elf?''_ Chief thought, a little in awe himself. An air of goodness seemed to emanate from this woman, however that was possible. And with her pale glowing aura, it was as if a messianic image was playing out right before him.

"Oh! And to top things off, she's an elf! Wonderful!" Cortana was a creature of logic, she was beginning to get fed up with this world. She felt like she was staring into a parody of herself, with all that glowing light around her. It was at this moment that Cortana decided she didn't like this individual very much.

"Frodo!" Arwen cooed softly, trying to bring him round. Sam was helping Strider to take apart Frodo's dressing, taking care not to rip any of the cloth. Aragorn was preparing the kingsfoil, spitting on the weed in order to draw the medicine out. The fair maiden's face was filled with concern, she didn't need to have studied healing for centuries to know that Frodo didn't have much time. "He's fading. He's not going to last!" She exclaimed in concern.

Aragorn started to rub the kingsfoil into his open wound. Frodo reacted immediately, and as the weed began to sting, he wheezed back into consciousness. Chief had medicines as well: Morphine, bio-foam, metabolic stimulant solutions, all within his armour. The problem was, Frodo wasn't human. Any treatment could potentially do more damage than good. Had Frodo been in a better way, he might have tried something. But putting any more stress on him right now, it could kill him.

Arwen knew that she had to get him away from here. "We must get him to my father!" She said, helping Aragorn move him to her horse. Aragorn quickly placed Frodo in the saddle, and turned back around to face her. Arwen had suddenly stopped dead, she had seen Chief for the first time. _"Who is he?"_ She asked Aragorn in her own tongue. The apprehension clear in her voice as she continued to stare.

 _"I am not sure"_ He replied, following her gaze before looking back into her eyes once more, _"He calls himself the Master Chief. He is human, I have seen his face. He says he's a warrior from a distant realm, somewhere to the east. He fought off many wraiths, barehanded. And insisted on coming with us. I do not believe him a servant of evil."_

Arwen looked back at the Chief, stunned, with a hint horror in her eyes. Aragorn wondered if she knew of him. He would ask her later, there would be time for that soon enough.

She started to speak in the gentle, elvish language. Everyone, including Chief, was a little surprised when Strider started speaking it back to her _. "Stay with the Hobbits. I will send horses back for you."_ He says, _"No. I'm the faster rider. I'll take him!"_ She disagrees. _"The road is too dangerous..."_

"What are they saying?" Pippin asks Chief. Chief cared for none of it. This talk could hold. It couldn't take priority over Frodo.

"Whatever you're discussing can wait. Frodo needs help. We're out of time." The two figures span around, this was the first Aragorn had heard frustration in the warrior's voice.

"Indeed Chief. And take heart, for this is Arwen. She hails from Rivendell and has come to our aid." He said acknowledging her with a nod. She smiled back in response, wide eyes still fixed on the Chief.

"If she's here to help then let her help." He commanded. "I could cross country faster than any of you, but I do not know the way to this Rivendell." A Spartan could outrun any horse. But that wasn't all there was to it. "We need to move. And she's Frodo's best chance. Let her take him."

She and Aragorn glanced at each other. This was no suggestion, this was a command. Of them both, Arwen was the faster rider and was not as defenceless as he would have liked to admit. But, he was risking _far_ more than the Spartan could imagine. These were desperate times indeed when one could justify such a gamble.

"As you wish." Aragorn said in defeat. He'd been outvoted. The apprehensive maiden also nodded, yet as the giant hefted the sickly hobbit onto her steed, she couldn't help but bring her gaze away.

Aragorn detected her unease, and turned to speak to her. Again, in elvish. _"What is he? Do you know of his kind?"_ Aragorn whispered to her, speaking in elfish. _"I know nothing of him!"_ She answered. _"And that is what troubles me. Perhaps my father will have knowledge of his people."_ Time was short, she had to ride right now!

"I must go, for Frodo's sake!" Aragorn knew it as well. "Good luck Arwen. Ride swiftly, do not look back." That was as close as he got to a farewell. And with a single elvish word, Asfaloth bolted away from them.

"What are you doing?!" Sam yelled at Strider in outrage as her horse tore away. "Those wraiths are still out there!" He didn't answer, and a silence fell over the clearing as the beating of hooves faded away. He'd just taken a horrific risk. If Arwen failed to reach the sanctuary of Rivendell, the free peoples were as good as doomed.


	6. Flight to the Ford and Rivendell

Night gave way to dawn, which soon gave way to day. And still they flew. Riders moving with no less purpose than the rising sun, which arced irresistibly above. Ebb and flow. Push and pull. Like the motions of the tide to and from the shore. Sometimes gaining, sometimes not. But still they flew.

Arwen pushes on without rest whilst the terrible wraiths give chase. Hour after hour they run. From forest to open plains, across rivers and broken ground. Sometimes closing, sometimes not.

In frustration, sensing her escape is near, one of the Wraiths spurs on his horse to a full on sprint. In a final effort to snatch away his quarry, the black rider comes within near touching distance of the two. Reaching out with an armoured hand, trying to snatch the Ring from him. But the keen eyed maiden takes notice.

 _"Nerale Asfoloth!"_ And on immediate command the mare quickens to full pelt. Slowly, but irresistibly outpacing the heavier black steed of Mordor. It declaring itself the superior horse in this test of endurance. Darting through the ever thinning foliage of the forest. They twist and turn, dodging wraiths, vaulting over stones and fallen trees. You would have been hard pressed to find a more expert rider, hard pressed to find two companions in more perfect unison.

Soon the tree line gives way to open ground, a lush and radiant glade. And she feels relief rush over her. She reaches the river, and Asfaloth splashes across the ford. She pauses and looks back at her pursuers, a look of defiance in her eyes. The Nine Nazgûl finally halted.

Their mounts rear up, screaming, seemingly terrified of entering the river. "Give up the Halfling, She-Elf!" The Witch King demands from her. Empty words, nothing more. They will not bewitch her here! She draws her sword, calling forth in challenge. "If you want him, come and claim him!" Without word the wraiths draw their heavy blades, and urge their reluctant horses across the ford. And then, Arwen begins to chant to the river.

 _"Nin o' Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer, Rimmo nin Bruinen, dan in Ulair! Nin o' Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer. Rimmo nin Bruinen, dan in Ulair!" (Waters of the Misty Mountains listen to the great word; flow waters of Loud-water against the Ringwraiths!)_

First there is nothing. Only stillness. Then suddenly the spell's full power comes into effect. A great flood descends upon the wraiths, swirling and boiling towards them. The waters hurtle around the tight meanders in the river, with peaks like white horses. The wraith's steeds see the raging waters, and immediately panic. They begin to flee, trying to outrun the waters in their blind terror. The hapless wraiths unable to control their wild horses.

They are engulfed by the waters, cast from their mounts and washed away down the river. Defeated.

Arwen, whilst drained by the enchantment, finally relaxes. A look of honest relief on her pale face. Yet, tragedy strikes. Victory turns to dismay, as Frodo breathing becomes shallow and rasping. He suddenly slumps forward, completely limp. His strength and will to fight on has gone.

In her concern she takes him off her horse and lays him on the ground. She knows what is happening. "Frodo, no! Frodo don't give in! Not now!" But the young hobbit is too weak. Frodo falls still and stops breathing, possibly for the final time. For a moment she is stunned, unused to death. Unused to the frailty of mortal men, and the horrors that war and combat could inflict.

Arwen embraces the hobbit tenderly. How a mother might cradle her child.

* * *

"So. Think you did the right thing by helping these people?" Cortana asked him abruptly, her voice betraying bitterness. She was splitting hairs, fed up with this whole affair. Of course John knew he'd done right. These hobbits were a threat to no one. And defending civilians was part of his duty. Being marooned didn't relieve him of that. But despite that, he had been wondering something crucial.

Why? Why were these people, his strange companions being hunted? These…wraiths…Nazgûl had Strider called them? Were obviously cruel. Yet spite was no motive, not one that made sense. They must have had a reason for tracking down the people he'd been landed with. It was about time he found out what that was.

"Strider." He announced in question. "What troubles you?" The ranger replied. He'd known the man would have questions, in fact he was surprised the Spartan had waited as long as he had. This warrior was as driven and single-minded as they came.

"Why are you being hunted by these Nazgûl?" He said getting straight to the point. A question that if he hadn't prepared for, Aragorn would have dreaded being asked.

"These wraiths are foul and stone-hearted, but they do not pursue us without reason. I've marched these hobbits far from their homes. Frodo has in his possession a most important package. Something precious, that cannot fall into our enemies' hands. These Nazgûl are spies and outriders, fearsome in their purpose. But in our fortune, I feel they have failed in their hunt. They will not chase us farther."

He hoped Arwen had gotten him to her father in time. The hobbits hoped their friend was alright. And everyone was glad to be rid of the Nine. But right now, Chief was somewhat enthralled with these strange new aliens.

"So Nazgûl, is the name of their kind? This species?" He asked the ranger.

"Yes. For lack of a better term." He replied. Chilling was the thought of those denizens ever becoming a fully-fledged race. This was a conversation he'd rather not be having. All things considered. Finally rid of those shades after weeks of travel, they were the last of things he wanted on his mind.

Chief glanced behind for a moment, to check on the hobbits. They were starting to lag behind. Five days of hard trekking combined with anxiety, for themselves and their friend, was starting to take its toll. For people so small, they were incredibly determined. Chief had seen such determination before. In soldiers and in countless marines. He knew the little ones would make it.

Strider meanwhile was showing no signs of fatigue. The man's endurance and stamina was impressive. For a human, Strider was also remarkably tall. He clocked him at 6'6", and the man was far from lanky. Any taller and he would have been indistinguishable from a Spartan.

Two giants amongst men, tailed by three Halflings. He wondered if this Strider was also different type of human, a different breed of man. It wasn't implausible. There were elves, trolls and wraiths in this world. And the three little men puffing and panting behind him! It may well have been true.

Strider reminded him of Jacob Keyes. He had the same kind of gravitas, the same kind of dignity. And the same look of strength in his eyes. Eyes could be deceptive of a persons' mood, and even their personality. Through them you could peer into someone's very soul. It was another of the reasons why John chose never to take his helmet off. The less weaknesses he betrayed to the world, the better.

Meanwhile, forgetting about wraiths for a moment, Chief wanted to know more about these 'elves'. They looked like humans, but Chief felt there was something more to them. He would start with the woman who had taken Frodo away. "So I take it that this Arwen is a friend of yours?" He asked Strider, rather bluntly. The ranger turned to look at Chief, a little smile tugging away at the side of his face.

"Indeed. One of my oldest" he replied with melancholy. Chief, again studying his eyes and his face, could tell the woman meant a great deal to him.

"What can you tell me about these elves?" He continued.

"Indeed you must hail from a distant land if you know not about the Eldar. Amongst their kin you will find the wisest beings in Middle Earth. They are immortal, and devote their lives to learning and wisdom. They pursue perfection in all things. They are peaceful at heart, naturally, yet when called to war will fight with a skill and fury beyond the skill of nigh any man...although...I do believe you could challenge that title!"

"Thanks" Chief replied, taking the compliment. He was also a little confused. The elves were immortal? How was that possible? "Has an elf ever died from old age?" He asked in curiosity.

"Not that anyone knows of, and the elves never speak of such things. I think in their hearts that many elves are ashamed of their inheritance, and wish that they could die of peaceful causes. An elf can be killed, just as easily as any man. But an elf has never been known to die of old age. Although, elves have been known to give up on life, on occasion. Losing treasured loved ones. Elves have taken their lives over matters like this."

"Oh for heaven sakes!" Snapped Cortana, her voice hidden inside of Chief's helmet. "That's the last straw! Chief, this guy is messing with you! All this bullshit about elves and trolls and horseshit monsters has to stop!" Her frustrations were starting to get to her, and rampancy was drawing ever closer. She was too stubborn to let Chief know her problem.

Chief, somewhat oblivious to her turmoil, wasn't so sure. He had seen photos of strange creatures that lived on earth and other planets. He had learned about deep sea anemones, and the many species of jelly fish. Such animals didn't age. Others had regenerative abilities and could restore their genome indefinitely, so could theoretically live for ever. Some Spartans even had markedly slower ageing rates. Kelly for instance had possessed this trait. She had always held a seemingly implausible youth and grace for her years. How he missed them all.

Aragorn continued on, and he still wanted to know about Chief. "Many beings which live in Middle Earth are said to be immortal. The Nine are beyond death. The Onodrim, secretive creatures who reside in the oldest forests of the world, cannot die. And then there are the Maiar and the Valar. They pose as wizards, as wise men and powerful warlords in our world. They possess great power and sorceries, powers not of this world."

Now this was too much for Chief. Cortana may have been right after all! "That cannot be possible" He replied coolly. He wasn't about to alienate this man, not yet anyway. But he was trying his patience. Aragorn sighed, he knew how farfetched it sounded. He had been sceptical in his youth. But seeing such things with your own eyes tended to alter ones opinions.

"You are a stranger to our lands Spartan. And you are right to be sceptical. You've already seen the elves. In time, you may meet the Maiar. It is irrelevant if you believe I am deceiving you." He thought men fools who accepted fanciful things so easily. He almost felt relieved that someone wasn't following him unreservedly. Many a Ranger of the North were more bone headed than this soldier.

John meanwhile brushed the dismissal off. With all the crap he'd already had to accept, he could go out on a limb. But unfortunately, Cortana couldn't. "The absolute nerve! The son of bitch thinks you're ignorant! Ask him how the hell your damn grenades work! Go on Chief, ask him!" She was starting to lose it a little, he had to say something.

"Cortana, calm down!" Aragorn turned round in confusion. John had forgotten his loudspeaker.

"What was that Chief?" He could have sworn the warrior was talking to someone else.

"It's nothing Strider." The Spartan replied, but truthfully he knew that whatever was go on certainly was nothing. "Cortana?" He voiced in private question, sending a concerned look in her direction on his HUD. Which finally seemed to cool her temper. She was behaving erratically. At least she was remembering to turn his speaker off and on. Mostly.

"Its…its nothing Chief. I'm fine. Really!" She sounded reassuring. But he knew this was not the truth. Her bolshiness was nothing new. But he sensed something was off about her outbursts now.

"No. Something's been wrong since before we evaced. _The Dawn._ " Cortana knew better than to keep a secret from him. He knew her quirks too well. Had known her for too long. A part of him had already put it together, knew what the matter with her was. And he dreaded the thought of it no less.

"I'm old, Chief." She began. "Installed eight years ago no less…" Her Spartan's jaw was tight, his muscles tense. "And everyone knows John, that AI's deteriorate after seven."

He was a hardened soldier, few even came close. Yet the prospect of failing anyone under his care, losing one of his own, would make his mouth go dry and the back of his neck go cold. He kept his promises, fought with all his worth to keep them. It was his duty, and duty always came first, no matter the cost.

" _The Dawn._ " He announced with conviction.

"Chief…" Cortana sighed in apathy. She knew he'd never be able to accept this. And it was why she'd kept this knowledge from him.

"It's a tough ship…" He continued. Vessels of the UNSC had a knack of defying all the simulations. Even frigates. "We head for the crash site…"

"Chief, please!" He was torturing himself. There was just no way!

"Perhaps a transport survived." A pelican, maybe a Longsword? No. She didn't have a fighter compliment. "Anything to get us into orbit." If they could drop another beacon, perhaps something would be in range and pick them up in time.

"John. I won't recover from rampancy. No one knows how." There were theories, on how to restore Smart AI. But none of them made practical. Nothing tested. She had already accepted and resigned herself to her fate. She didn't care about that, she cared about John. Always had. It was at this moment, as she looked into his eyes. Slightly manic, a million futile thoughts a minute passing through his racing mind, all she could do was stop herself from welling up. She now knew what heart-break felt like.

"Promise me one thing John." She said with sincerity. Her Spartan nodded. "Promise that once you get these people to safety…that you won't shut me off." Because of all the emotions running through her mind, the most prominent one right now was fear. Fear for both of them. She wanted to hang on, be there for him for as long as she could manage it. But she also needed him to.

"No." He replied. And almost like an off switch, her mind stopped completely cold. "What…what do you mean n-" "No, I will not switch you off." Relief.

"Damnit John! I thought you meant…never mind" Of course he wouldn't disappoint her. UNSC protocol was to deactivate malfunctioning AI's. He wasn't going to do that anytime soon. One positive of being marooned. No one was looking over his shoulder!

"Don't shut me off. At least, not yet. Not whilst something of me still remains." Once they were beyond that pale, it didn't matter anymore. She'd be as good as gone, only despondent ghosts of her protocols remaining. Like the afterglow of a long gone star.

John didn't respond. Not for a good while. He, Cortana, hobbits and all wandered for a good hour without word. Until Chief of all people finally broke the silence.

"What did Arwen say, about the five wraiths and four others? Didn't we deal with the ones at the watchtower?" He still had his job to do. Get Strider and the remaining hobbits to this Rivendell. Maybe there he could figure something out. No matter what, he would move forward. Always forward, never back.

"The wraiths are no longer men of this world."Aragorn's face was dark and stony. "They are creatures of energy, as I said before. They cannot be killed, they cannot die."

'Creatures of Energy'. The words stuck in Chief's mind. Energy could not be destroyed. It was immutable. It was one of the physical laws which the universe was held together by. "However" Aragorn continued. "Their resurrection is not a natural one. The Nine are eternally bound to the life force of their master, the dark lord Sauron. Whenever they are destroyed, he binds them together into life once more. If you can call what they have life. They are unthinking, and are slaves to his will...they will never stop hunting for..." He suddenly stopped dead.

"What is it?" Chief asked, almost anxious. But then realised that there was no threat. The hobbits had caught up, and were gazing at the river. The four hobbits had never seen one as large as this one. It was incredible!

"Why have we stopped Strider?" Pippin asked. Then everyone heard the horses.

Heralded by the thunderous sound of hooves, a patrol of elven guards rode out from behind the trees. They had been spotted, the elves were here on orders. "They certainly do have grace" Cortana remarked. "But I still don't believe this immortality nonsense!" Chief knew that time would tell, truth was always revealed in the end.

The lead elf rode across the river, and greeted the five companions. "Good morning friends. I am Mithrellas Amras, second Captain of the Lancers. Lady Arwen sent us here to await for your arrival." The captain spoke with great authority, yet his voice was also warm and inviting.

"How is Frodo?" Merry asked him. The captain smiled warmly at the hobbit, taking Chief and Cortana back somewhat. He had charm and warmth that neither she nor Chief had known of a soldier.

"He is doing well. He heals, resting in the house of Elrond" Mithrellas replied kindly. The three hobbits breathe a sigh of relief now knowing that Frodo was okay.

"He has been through much, but now he, like yourselves, are safe. Come travellers, you must be weary from your long journey. Lord Elrond, master of Rivendell, invites you to his home with warm and open arms. You will be safe here."

They didn't need telling twice. They all began to cross the river, Chief following last. As soon as he got near to the elf captain, a lance was placed in front of him, blocking his way. The elven captain's face grew suddenly stern. "Just a moment good warrior, I do not recognise your kind. What is your name?" Aragorn intervened, placing a hand on the lance.

"He is a friend of the ring bearer, and a friend of mine. He calls himself a Spartan. Without this warrior, Frodo may not have survived. He is human, and I sense no darkness in his heart. He has done only good. He is not a servant of evil."

Mithrellas was surprised to say the least, that someone so tall could be a human. Only the men of Numenor had been so tall. But the line of Numenor had ended long ago. Aragorn was one of their last. He did not trust this Spartan, he even feared him a little. But he trusted Aragorn and his judgement. He gave the strange warrior the benefit of the doubt.

"I will let you pass, brave warrior" He announced, warm and charming once again. "If you are a friend of the ring bearers, you are a friend of Rivendell's. You will be honoured here, Spartan. We are in your debt!" If Chief had been a normal man, he might of started blushing.

"Thank you" he said, experiencing but the mildest feelings of flattery. His mind still churning over previous events.

"These elves seem nice" Cortana remarked, "Seems like not all aliens are bad ones after all!"

* * *

The five companions, escorted by the elven lancers who followed behind them, made their way up the steep mountain road. With renewed vigour, the quickly arrived at the front gates. The gatehouse was very beautiful, a work of art. It was inscribed with elven runes and decorations, embroidered with the finest gold and silver thread. Swirling waves and curves were surrounding fine gems, precious amethysts and sapphires that glistened and twinkled like stars in the morning light.

They passed through the ornate doorway, and were amazed at what greeted them. The four hobbits were stunned. Even Chief marvelled at the tranquil beauty of the elven town. Aragorn and Mithrellas simply smiled at their reactions. It was good to see people react so well to their home.

"Isn't this pretty..." Cortana whispered, also taken aback by the splendour of the place.

"The climate is cool and refreshing in winter, never frigid. A thin blanket of snow will cover the houses in a breath-taking layer of fine powder, never forming ice." It was as if the captain was advertising a hotel or something! Cortana thought to herself. "The warm seasons are temperate, and the summer air will relax the body and warm the soul. A light and refreshing breeze will blow through the whispering trees, never forming a gale. The birds will sing in the morning and the evening, and will retire to the lower valleys with the coming of dark, ensuring a fine and peaceful night's sleep."

The captain could have gone on and on about this utopia, this elven sanctuary. But he would allow the travellers to discover those other wonderful things which he knew so well for themselves. "I will lead you to Lord Elrond now. Later, when Frodo is fully recovered, you may go and see him. But for now, you will recover yourselves. Elrond will see to you, he will gladly find you rest and a well-earned supper."

Chief didn't often give in to pleasure. But irrelevant of what he wanted, he knew it was going to be a nice stay here in Rivendell. If soured sadly by the hell his closest friend was about to endure. The broad and leafy trees, crystal clear ponds and rivers. Powerful, beautiful waterfalls that drove from the rivers above, carving into the sides of the tranquil valley below. Great and gleaming arches and bridges, that looked as if they had been grown, not built. The elven beauty filled the entire valley, alongside dainty houses and great stone buildings that filled the space above and below. He could enjoy his rest and security, even he couldn't deny these wants.

"This is going to be a little different to the usual routine, isn't it! It's going to be a welcome change John, you'll see!" Cortana remarked, trying her best to reassure her Spartan. John couldn't actually remember the last time he had been in a place of such safety and ease. He had to make the best of it.

Mithrellas had now lead them to their destination, a fine looking building by any account. "This is the house of Elrond. He will make sure that your time here will be fine and good. I will leave you now, goodbye friends... _Ere rhinc, min rocco-ecthel_ _(move out lancers!)_ ".

And with that, he and his riders galloped off back towards the way they had come, and as the sound of hooves died away, the five were left to their own devices. "It would be ill mannered to keep Elrond waiting" Aragorn announced. He was in good spirits, and started walking towards the grand and beautiful building Mithrellas had lead them to.

"Aragorn seems to know his way around here Chief...I'm glad that someone does!" He and the hobbits simply followed suit. The man commanded trust. Chief was starting to view Aragorn with the same respect as a superior officer of the UNSC.

Elves who passed the group by began to stare, and whispered amongst themselves. "You'll have to find me a translations book of some kind Chief...I can't stand not being able to understand what they are saying!" The feeling was shared by Chief, but he had no reasons to worry. It was harmless chatter, nothing more. He didn't have to understand them to know that much.

Once they had reached the doorway to the house of Elrond, they were greeted by another elf. He wore fine robes of azure blue and silky white and gold. His robes were detailed with sage green, and the common leaf and spiral patterns of the elf culture. His face was ageless, nether old nor young. Though his eyes betrayed the memory of great sufferings of ancient times. A testament perhaps, to the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight. His eyes were grey, like the clearest moment during dusk or evening, and within them was a pale warmth, like the light of the stars.

Venerable he seemed, like a king, and yet also like a seasoned warrior, healthy and at the zenith of his strength. He was the Lord of Rivendell, mighty and revered amongst both Elves and Men. He was lord Elrond, and he had come to greet the companions of the ring bearer. "Welcome friends, welcome to Rivendell. My people welcome you with warmth and open arms!" Chief was a little taken aback. Such an aura this man seemed to possess. His presence was most remarkable, and his being almost glowed with light and majesty.

"We are in your debt, good companions. For your actions have ensured the safety of your friend, Frodo Baggins, and may have ensured the survival of our three races. We cannot thank you enough for your actions. You will be welcome to stay in Rivendell for as long as you desire." He began walking forwards, he was regal and majestic beyond all measure. Then he turned towards John, and his only reaction was to smile, broad and warm, as if he had seen it all before!

"You must be the Spartan. Your presence here has caused quite a stir amongst my people, something that very rarely happens here. You must have many questions about our world and our races must seem very strange...but now is not the time for such questions. Your friends are weary and in need of sleep and much rest. You yourself must be weary Spartan, you will find great sanctuary and peace here in Rivendell. You will be able to let go of your fears and anxieties here." Chief nodded, he was without words. Elrond took no offence, who merely smiled in slight amusement.

"Go now and rest, and if you need it, breakfast is being served inside my halls. We are plentiful here, you will not go hungry or be without. On that you have my word. In the morning, you may come and find me, and I shall be ready to answer any and all questions you need answering. I hope you will find comfort here Spartan. You have no reason to be afraid anymore."

The clarity and wisdom of the man was remarkable. It was if he could stare into the very centre of your being and understand the very nature of your soul. He could see things about Chief that even he could not see. Yes, it was remarkable. The repression of his emotions, his anxieties about human contact. His fear of losing control, of failing a mission, of failing those he loved and missing those he had. ALL of this, was based on fear. His fear of failing to be a good Spartan, and his fear of being human. Chief sensed that Elrond knew all of this, somehow. In so many ways, John already felt as if a colossal weight had been taken off of his shoulders.

"Thank you." He said finally, and he bowed his head in respect for the man.

"You are most welcome, John." That startled Chief a little, the way Elrond had revealed the knowledge of his name. "Eat if you are hungry, rest if you are weary, sleep if you are in need of it. Go to my house, find whatever room that suits you and use it as you will. In the morning, all of your questions will be answered, and all your needs will be attended to."

With that, Elrond bowed low, and turned and walked away. Attending to some other business that the five weren't aware of. "Well, he was a remarkable person wasn't he?" Cortana said to him.

"He is" Chief replied. Such hospitality that he had shown, he had not experienced charity like it. This entire sanctuary was a little overwhelming. Time was a good teacher, and he would learn what to truly make of the place when due. It could perhaps even ease her passing. For both of them.

"So Chief...when are you gonna ask these elves where Santa's workshop is?"


End file.
